


Stitching.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Supernatural Elements, set in 2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 92,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: “Are you looking for this?” Jughead whips around at the voice, nearly losing his footing on the pedestal. He managed to cling to the shutters. Archie’s ‘father’ stood directly in front of him, a single silver key dangling from his fingers. Jughead could only stare at the man’s grin which stretched across his face like a Cheshire cat. The shutters rattled as he attempted to keep his balance, and he felt ridiculous. Though Reggie was at yelling distance, he knew that. Jughead swallowed. He could do this. “Let them go.” He’s surprised at how confident his voice sounds despite his rapidly beating heart. “The kids you have in the back, let them go.”or: Sixteen year old Jughead Jones was ready to embrace a boring Summer of tedious work hours while working on his novel. That is until he encounters a mute red-headed boy who can do extraordinary things with his mind. But the boy and his friends are in danger, and Jughead, determined to help them, finds himself being catapulted into a world he never knew existed. A world where kids are ‘Stitched’ - given special abilities, but lose a piece of themselves. And it’s only a matter of time before Jughead is next.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> repost. 
> 
> also posted in 2017 (i think just after the 1st season finished?) so VERY old and outdated, and the writing sucks. I haven't bothered editing it, but it's cute jarchie/bughead/core 4 fluff so have at it lmao. I've been avoiding reposting this for a while, because this fic meant so much to me. It was my first fic that garnered attention, and i love it so godddamn much <3

* * *

Lost Boy. 

Tapping. At first it was annoying, which was really the only reason why Jughead noticed it. He had been tending to a rowdy customer, a grouchy old man who had looked ready to explode. He was a red-neck type with tufts of hair sprouting from his mostly bald head and he sounded like he chain-smoked fifty cigarettes a day. Jughead had been humouring him at first, because honestly. He was sure the guy was a drunk. It was clear in the way he stood, or _tried_ to stand. How he was always slightly off balance no matter how hard he squeezed the counter with his wrinkled witch-like fingers. That's what Jughead had thought when the man had started pointing accusing fingers at him. The man’s fingers resembles those of a witch. Which was perfect inspiration for the book he was trying to write.

The store he worked at was a 24 Hour gas station sitting on the outskirts of Riverdale. It wasn't exactly busy at the beginning of his shift. There had only been a small queue so Jughead thought he could handle it. But then as the day went on, and the overbearing sun caused him to sweat through three of his shirts, it became clear that the store was suddenly Riverdale’s only source of water. So men, women and children alike has suddenly flocked there, grabbing as much soda, water and barbecue equipment as possible. Jughead was less than thrilled. It meant, instead of kicking back behind the counter and finishing his novel, like he’d been planning on doing, he was in for an afternoon of screaming children and "Can I talk to your manager?!" Normally, Friday afternoon’s were pretty dead. Plus, it was in the middle of summer. Most of Riverdale were either knee deep in their garden flowerbeds or crowding the public swimming pool. Jughead had walked into work this morning pretty optimistic about finally finishing his last draft for his novel.

But of course, like everything in his life, his plans were ruined.

“I'm sorry, sir.” Jughead cleared his throat and tried not to think about the queue behind the old man, which was getting progressively longer. “We don't have that specific type of wine.” he wasn't even sure that name existed, or the man’s irritating lisp on everything he said was affecting his pronunciation of the so-called wine.

“Well, get a manager!” the man hissed, and Jughead was sure a glob of spittle had just landed on his bottom lip.

He ran a hand through his dark hair which sat underneath his signature grey hat, a hat he had worn most of his life, and fixed the man with his best _I totally know what I'm doing_ face. “My manager isn't here at the moment.” he smiled politely. But it was with his teeth. Jughead wasn't lying. His manager, Mark, a forty-something year old man with greying hair and an addiction to gambling, had gone out for the day, apparently going to stake out baby clothes for his pregnant wife, Lucy. Reggie and Moose, two other employees who happened to be in Jughead’s class, were in the storage room doing stock.

Well, that's what they _said_ they were doing. Jughead was pretty sure they were smoking weed.

Jughead was starting to sweat under the shitty light-blue cotton t-shirt bearing the logo; “HADFIELDS” with a little cartoon turtle. His shift wasn't over for another three hours, and it was… he glanced at the digital clock on the old fashioned register. _15:45pm_. “Hey!” The customer snapped him out of it, and he lifted his gaze back to the rowdy man, who had somehow gotten progressively angrier.

Jughead took a deep breath. He could handle this. “Sir.” he cleared his throat in a way of grabbing control. “I told you we don't have that _specific_ type of wine.” he tried so hard to say it without gritting his teeth. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave as you’re holding up the queue."

_Tap, tap, tap._ The noise came out of nowhere. At first, he ignored it, and he dragged in a breath. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to, um…” he stammered and stumbled over his words which caused his mind to go blank. His cheeks heated up, and his chest tightened. He took another deep staggering breath, before he forced himself to continue. “Sir,” he tightened his grip on the edge of the counter. He could smell stale alcohol on the man’s breath and he swallowed a gag. The smell was unavoidable at home. “If you don't leave the store, I'll be forced to- to…”

_Tap, tap, tap, tap._

Jughead’s gaze momentarily left the stormy eyes of the old man, and he searched the queue of customers for the source of the sound. “I _beg your pardon!”_ the man snapped his attention back, and this time he couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

“Don't you get it?!” he finally exploded, and the man stumbled a little, the fire in his eyes, the stubborn bitterness vanishing from his expression. “Leave!” Jughead hissed. His throat was thick with emotion and he was just about ready to lose the plot. _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._

His gaze snapped back to the tapping, and he once again scanned the queue of people for the source. It really wasn't helping. Jughead found himself leaning over the counter, squinting his eyes. But he only saw an impatient looking woman with a toddler tugging at her waist, a tired looking business man grasping three bottles of water and a teenage girl with long brown hair. Her eyes were glued to her phone. Jughead couldn't help his gaze skimming over each customer in the queue, which seemed to go on forever.

“What's going on here?” Jughead spun around at the sound of his colleague and classmate, Reggie Mantle's, voice. It was almost a relief. _Almost._ Reggie folded his arms and shot a glare at the old man, who suddenly looking intimidated. “Is there a _problem_ , sir?” Reggie asked politely, his lips stretched into a giant gleaming smile.

The man looked like he might say something, but seemed to scrutinise the boy with beady eyes. Reggie was of Asian descent with short black hair and a trademark grin. Jughead watched the man’s lip curl in disgust, but he didn't say anything. Reggie leaned forward, and Jughead could just about get a whiff of the boy’s aftershave, which was a clever way of hiding the stale stench of weed. Which Jughead could still smell on his breath.

The smell of the aftershave however, was almost a godsend as he'd been stewing in his own sweat for the last few hours. It was the type of brand Jughead could never afford, even if he saved up for several months. There was a pine-fresh scent lingering in the air, mixed with something rich and biting. Chocolate?

“I believe my colleague has informed you multiple times we don't sell that brand of wine.” Reggie said, and his voice was cool and confident. Reggie was everything he wasn't. “So,” Reggie shrugged and offered an apologetic smile, which wasn't the _least_ bit sorry. Reggie’s smile reminded Jughead of a predator, a shark’s baiting grin as it lurked under the ocean next to its unsuspecting prey. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Jughead waited in tense silence for a face full of abuse. But none came. The man only nodded, muttering to himself, before turning and walking, or rather stumbling, out of the automatic doors and into the blazing heat. Reggie seemed proud of himself. He watched the man go with a triumphant grin. “Okay then!” he smiled brightly at the rest of the queue. “Who’s next?” The woman with the toddler took an unsure step forwards, and Reggie shot her a tooth-rotting grin. “Hello there!” he started to tend to her groceries, and Jughead took a step back. “Jug, why don't you go on a break?” Reggie murmured, as he scanned a large bottle of soda. The toddler picked up a candy bar and held it hopefully. The woman sighed and took it off of the kid, before planting it on the counter and pulling out her purse.

Jughead nodded, relieved, and quickly made his way away from the cash register and hurried towards the back room, where he was sure he was going to catch Moose with a joint.

He had his hand on the door handle, about to yank it open, when he heard it again. _Tap, tap, tap._ He turned around, uncertainly. Wondering if this was some kind of prank. He'd seen them on YouTube. Teenagers like him, but with fewer brain cells and a limited vocabulary, following unsuspecting members of the public around, making animal noises, or just being a pain in the butt. Except when Jughead twisted his head around, his hand still clutching the door handle, he didn't see a kid or camera in sight. There was a figure a few feet away, swamped in sunlight, so their identity was hidden as the late-afternoon sun decided to blast its warm rays through the thin glass ceiling that had been replaced nearly three times because of vandalism.

Jughead squinted, straining his eyes. The figure took a few unsteady steps forward out of the shadows and he finally managed to make out a teenage boy, about the same age as him, standing a few feet away.

“Uh, hey,” Jughead turned away from the door, and got a good look at the guy, who was about Reggie’s height with broad shoulders and a head of rich red hair, strands of it splayed across his pale forehead. The boy was pretty attractive, Jughead thought, his gaze going over every detail of the redhead. The speckled freckles on his cheek, brown eyes caught in a deer-in-the-headlights look of fright.

“Okay, if you’re here for something, ask my manager, or my colleague-“ Jughead started to say, but the boy took a stumbled step backwards, his mouth opening, no sound coming out.

“Whoa, hey!” Jughead gasped out a startled breath, which slowly became a laugh. “It’s cool, I’m not gonna eat you!” He waited for the kid to grin back and laugh, but the look of wariness, of fear and paranoia never left his expression. Instead of introducing himself, or awkwardly laughing and walking away like Jughead expected, he continued to stare at him, with almost a look of desperation. Which made Jughead feel incredibly uneasy.

The boy was stood awkwardly at the end of the Chilled Food aisle, and didn’t make any move towards him, and Jughead, not knowing what else to do, stared back, furrowing his eyebrows. Jughead frowned, taking the guy in. He looked like one of Reggie’s team-mates, a football player type. He could practically sense the muscles straining under the kid’s light blue t-shirt.

Which looked discoloured, Jughead realized. Jeez, had this kid changed in over a week? He decided the answer to his mental question was no, he hadn't. The signs were easy to spot. Strands of greasy hair sticking to his forehead, his clothes- jeans and t-shirt which seemed to be permanently glued to his slim frame.

It wasn't that the boy looked menacing, or scary, in any way. It was his expression that chilled Jughead to the core. His eyes were blank, his lips were pressed together like somebody had sewn them shut.

When Jughead _really_ looked, he noticed the boy’s lips pursed, as if he was fighting against trying to say something. “Are you okay?” Jughead didn't expect his voice to be so hoarse. His throat was dry and felt like sandpaper when he swallowed. He ran his tongue over his parched lips and sighed, straightening up and folding his arms. The boy didn't reply, only continued to stare at him. Jughead noticed the guy’s eyes narrowed, as if he was deeply studying Jughead, really looking into his soul. And, Jughead realized, his heart plummeting into his stomach, the boy’s hands were visibly shaking by his sides. “Hey,” Jughead made sure his voice was soft, when the boy’s eyes widened to the size of football’s when he slowly took a step forwards. “Hey, you’re shaking.”

The kid seemed to notice and shoved both arms behind his back, his gaze continuing to bore into Jughead’s. Jughead couldn’t help it. “Do you need a drink?” he studied the guy’s chapped lips, and before he could stop himself, he was slowly taking another step towards the boy. He had no idea what he was doing at this point, but the guy, even if he _looked_ like a senseless jock, also looked scared out of his mind.

“Do you have a phone?” when Jughead attempted another hesitant step, the boy staggered backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet.

_What the hell is wrong with this kid?_ Jughead wondered, and at that moment, he _swore_ he glimpsed a look of recognition in the boy’s eyes, as if he’d heard the thought.

“Shit, sorry!” he halted abruptly, holding up both of his arms. “No, it’s okay, I’m staying here.” He offered the boy a smile, and the boy, after running a hand through his hair, gritting his teeth, nodded slowly.

“What’s your name?” he figured he’d start slow. He didn’t care about keeping professional anymore. The boy was clearly distressed. But the boy just shook his head, his eyes suddenly looking panicked. Then he seemed to steer himself, taking a shaky breath and pointing at his neck with a slender finger, before swiping it down the curve of his throat and then he was stabbing at his Adam’s apple, his gaze never leaving Jughead’s.

Jughead got it automatically, and for some reason his blood ran cold. “You can’t...you can’t speak?” He couldn’t help stammering. This was getting too weird. He’d met people with throat infections, yes. He’d met mute people. But he had never met anyone like this boy. Who seemed to have no voice _at all_.

Jughead hesitates. "Was the tapping you?"

The boy only nods solemnly. 

"Okay, look,” Jughead said softly. “Do you need help? Do you need me to call someone?” Alarm bells seemed to be going off in his head now. The boy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, which had several reddish stains covering them. He seemed to be concentrating. “What is it?” Jughead’s voice was quivering, his chest tightening. This kid was really freaking him out. The boy opened his mouth, and Jughead thought he was going to speak. After quickly whipping around to see if there was anyone behind him, the boy seemed to hesitate before opening his mouth once again and mouthing something. He wasn't sure at first, because he couldn't lip-sync to save his life. The boy’s expression seemed to come to life, as if he really was speaking, Dark eyes widening in terror as soundless words flew from his open mouth. Jughead felt hopeless, as hopeless as the mute kid.

But then, as if by magic, the words were suddenly clear in his head, spoken by a boy with a strained voice which bordered on hysteria. The voice was soft first, seeping into his mind, twisting through his thought processes and lighting up his thoughts. But it grew louder, louder in his head as the boy’s mouth opened and closed, his lips forming words which slipped into Jughead’s mind, sending shivers ripping down his spine, Goosebumps prickling across his neck and back. Everywhere. Suddenly, the voice was _everywhere_. It exploded into his thoughts, bounced from ear to ear. It was behind him, next to him- in every memory he had ever had, lurking, screaming and crying out for help. While the boy stood there, no sound coming out as he screamed directly into Jughead’s skull.

_"You have to help us! I don’t have much time, they’re going to come looking for me, oh god, I’m so weak. I can barely do this. You need to listen to me. The girls. My friends. They’re-“_

Just like that, the voice was gone, as if it was dragged back through Jughead’s thoughts and out of his ears. He took a shaky step backwards as his heart thundered against his chest, every part of him screaming to run. But the redhead was clawing at his hair, mouthing words with no voice. The way they popped from his mouth so colourfully, Jughead knew he was swearing. Eventually Jughead found his own voice, after struggling to locate it. He could still hear echoes of the boy’s voice in his head. How had he done that?! He opened his mouth, the question clinging in his throat, when another voice startled him. “Archie, there you are!” a man seemed to come out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows and gently grabbing hold of the red-head’s arm. Jughead could only stare, his lips twisting as the boy- or ‘Archie’ tried to yank his arm away, but the man only chortled. “Archie, for goodness sake, stop acting like a child.”

The man looked around Jughead’s father’s age with longish dark hair. He was wearing a white shirt, khaki’s and sandals. Jughead was lost for words as he watched the man grab hold of the boy’s arm once again, his grip too tight to be anything but friendly.

“I don’t think...” Jughead swallowed when the man turned to face him, dull blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. Archie stared at him too, a mixture of confusion and hope lighting up his expression. “I don’t think he wants to go with you.” He took a shaky step forwards, ignoring every instinct inside him telling him to just turn around and run. He would run the six blocks home, back to his dad’s trailer. Then he would call the police.

But he couldn’t run. Archie’s words, the ones he had somehow screamed into Jughead’s mind without uttering a syllable, had hit him hard. The kid was in danger. Real, honest to god danger. The man seemed amused, however. Not the least bit threatened. “Oh, is that true?” his tone was patronizing, his lips curling into a smirk. Archie was still in his grasp, his head bowed, a wash of his red hair covering his eyes.

_Go._ Jughead had to bite down hard on his bottom to lip to stop himself from reacting to the voice which was once again in his head. It was Archie. But this time his voice was soft, weak. _Please just...just go._ The boy looked up, his gaze automatically finding Jughead’s. Brown eyes bored into his own, and Jughead gritted his teeth. There was no way he was going to let that man drag the boy out of the store. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled at the man politely. “Can I have some ID? Or any other means of proof that he-“ he points to Archie, “Is related to you?”

“Ah, yes. I’m...I'm Fred Andrews, and this is Archie Andrews, my son.”

_Stop it!_ Archie hisses in his head. _They can hear me, they know that-_

Jughead nods. "Yes, but...can I still see some ID?"

 _T_ he man looks startled for a second, and lets go of Archie, who stumbles out of his grasp. “Certainly.” He scoffs out a laugh, pulling out his wallet and what Jughead presumed was his ID. “Do you really want proof that Archie is my son?” Jughead glances at the man’s ID for a second, and takes it hesitantly, before glancing at Archie, who was inconspicuously shaking his head. _He’s... a... -eader!_ Archie’s voice slithers in and out of his mind like a radio going out of range. _..He....’s..Using....m.....ds.....ID!_ Jughead resisted the urge to shake his head as a static-like screech suddenly rang in his head, and Archie could only glare at the floor, his hands tightened into fists.

The ID looked pretty genuine. Jughead stared down at the plastic card the man had handed him, and scanned for faults. He turned it over and over in his palm, trying to find some kind of proof that the man was a fake, and something was clearly wrong. His heart clenched when he glanced at Archie for a single second, and caught the utter hopelessness in the boy’s expression. The boy was staring at him, and Jughead wondered if he was trying to do the strange trick he could do, sending telepathic messages into Jughead’s thoughts. But from the look of frustration and anger on the kid’s face, it looked like he was failing.

“Read it then!” the man snapped, folding his arms. “I don’t have time for this!” Jughead ignored the man, biting his lip, and glanced down at the card, letting his gaze flicker over the bold writing scrawled on the plastic.

**FRED ANDREWS**

**AGE: 38**

**SEX M**

Next to the man’s supposed details, there was an unsmiling picture of him. Jughead handed back the ID and sent a panicked glance at Archie, who was refusing to look at him. _Did you not h...ear me?_ The boy’s voice rings out in his head, and he hisses out a breath. _He’s......using.....my........d’s.....etails! .....lease...ust....o!_

Archie's voice became less coherent, and ended up being another gush of white noise in his head. Jughead felt sick. The smile on the man’s face put him on edge. He had half a mind to ask for some kind of proof that Archie was in fact his son, but he couldn't seem to get his words out when Archie’s supposed father sent him an uneasy smile. “Right, now we’ve established I’m not a kidnapper,” the man laughed out loud and beckoned Archie to follow him. “Come on,” Jughead caught the tail end of a sly wink the man sent Archie’s way. “Unless you want to say goodbye to dear Veronica?”

Jughead felt chills down his spine, and the man must have noticed. “Veronica is his hamster,” he grins at Jughead. It almost felt like he wasn’t even trying to be subtle. That he was deliberately playing games. “Bless her, the little thing is on her _last legs_.” That changes something in Archie’s expression. The boy straightens up and smiles stiffly at Jughead, before nodding at the man and following him back down the assorted aisles of the store. “Hey, wait!” Jughead managed through a startled breath, and started to follow them. Archie didn’t look back, and there was no voice in his head any-more. Jughead was halfway to the door, pushing his way through customers, his gaze on the two figures rapidly getting further away from him. Jughead watched, swallowing hard, as the man wrenched Archie’s arm, violently yanking him back through the parking lot so the boy had no choice but to stumble after him.

“Jug?” Jughead’s head snapped to the familiar voice, an almost sense of reality leaking back into his life after so much had happened in so little time. Reggie was standing behind him with his signature smirk twisted on his lips, eyebrows cocked in confusion. Jughead’s gaze slid from his colleague, to the last dawdling customers making their way out of the store. “You okay, dude?” Reggie waved a hand in front of his face. “Hey, hey, Jughead!” and Jughead blinked. After a second of trying to find his own voice, he managed a nod and slapped Reggie’s hand away. “Yeah...” his gaze strayed on Reggie for a few more seconds before it inevitably wandered over to the parking lot where he could no longer see that startling red hair glinting against the sun.

“You sure?” Reggie cocked his head, wariness taking over his expression. Jughead nodded, straining his neck to keep an eye on the parking lot. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Reggie, I’m good.” But he wasn’t even looking at the other boy. Reggie laughed. “Okay, sure you are, man. Jesus, Jughead you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Jughead twisted back to meet his colleague's frown, his eyes wild. “Reggie, I think I just ...” he didn’t realize he was shaking until he grabbed Reggie’s shoulders. “I think I just saw a boy being taken against his will.”

Reggie stared at him a moment longer before chuckling. “Dude, I think you've had too much heat.” When Reggie tried to feel his forehead, Jughead swiped his hand away with a hiss. “I’m serious! I...” he hesitated for a second, and Reggie was clearly enjoying it. “You _what_?” the other boy rolled his eyes with a grin.

Jughead took a breath. “I...I know this sounds crazy, Reggie. But the boy- he- he couldn't speak, and instead he was talking into my head, I could hear it almost perfectly, and-“

It took him a few seconds to realize that he sounded completely out of his mind. He sighed, wrapping his arms around himself. He was shivering, despite the fact that it was nearing 104 outside. “Yeah, I think you've got heatstroke, buddy.” Reggie grinned. “Go and get some air, I'll look after the store.” Before Jughead could protest, he realized that’s what he needed. Air. Outside. The parking lot. He needed to find Archie and fast.

Jughead managed a shaky nod. “Okay- I’ll...you’re right. I’ll go and get a drink of water.” Reggie smiled and glanced at his watch. “Then, what the hell, go home, Jug. I think you need an ice bath.”

Reggie walked away, still chuckling to himself, and Jughead, after considering calling the cops, walked out of the store, cringing when he felt the heat hit him. It washed over his skin, and he felt like he had just stuck his head in an oven. He shook his head, biting back a hiss. Archie had said a van, that’s where his friends were, and presumably where he had been dragged back to. Jughead scanned the parking lot, counting three cars and what looked like a white transit van with shutters. “Shit,” he lowered himself into a crouch and darted across the lot, passing the cars, until he reached the shutters, slamming his hands into them. “Archie??!” he hissed. He quickly checked for any sign of the man before beating the shutters with his fists. “Hey, is anyone in there?” he pressed his ears to the shutters, causing them to rattle loudly. Nothing. Silence. Jughead cursed, twisting his head so he could squint through the glare of the sun roasting the side-walk. There was no other van parked. His heart plummeted. Had it already gone?

_What are you doing?!_ Archie's voice was suddenly pouring into his head and he nearly gasped out in relief. Instead, he pressed his face against the shutters, his shaking hands digging in his jeans for his phone. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?” he hissed. “And I’m calling the cops!”

_No, you need to run! Get the hell out of here!_

Jughead wasn't listening, even if Archie’s voice was more hysterical than normal, attaching itself to every thought process he had. "Can you stop?" Jughead hissed, wincing when the boy continued to scream into his head. He needed to get them out. He quickly checked once again for lingering bad guys, before hoisting himself onto the small pedestal underneath the shutters. “Shit, shit, shit!” he pawed at them, grasping for some kind of lock or button to open them. But there was nothing. “How do you get the damn shutters open?!” he smacked them with frustration.

_Listen to me_. Archie’s voice is faint, but the shutters suddenly rattle loudly as if someone had hit them from the inside. _You need to go. Back in the store, I was a pawn. They want..._ the boy’s voice rattles back into static and Jughead presses himself further into the shutters, his hands grasping for a way out _. “_ Say that again! I- I can't hear you!" he tried to grasp for some kind of leverage, some way of holding on to Archie's voice. But there was just white noise.

“Are you looking for this?” Jughead whips around at the voice, nearly losing his footing on the pedestal. He managed to cling to the shutters. Archie’s ‘father’ stood directly in front of him, a single silver key dangling from his fingers. Jughead could only stare at the man’s grin which stretched across his face like a Cheshire cat. The shutters rattled as he attempted to keep his balance, and he felt ridiculous. Though Reggie was at yelling distance, he knew that. Jughead swallowed. He could do this. “Let them go.” He’s surprised at how confident his voice sounds despite his rapidly beating heart. “The kids you have in the back, let them go.”

_Fuck!_ Archie’s yelling now. And he winces when the boy’s voice pierces his ear, digging straight into his brain. _I told you to run!_

He knows how stupid he looks. A sixteen year old kid wearing a work t-shirt with a fucking grinning turtle on it, not the least bit intimidating, but he manages to maintain his narrowed eyes and snarl.

The man chuckles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, kid.” He clicks his fingers and the shutters on the van start to slowly roll up, and Jughead stumbles off of the pedestal, straight into the man’s embrace. Though he’s too busy staring at the van’s contents to fight back. He only half-halfheartedly tried to yank away from the man’s grip, but his gaze was stuck to what was inside. “Get off me!” he hissed, only for the man to tighten his grip. Jughead felt sick, his stomach rolling over, when the man’s lip was suddenly resting on the bridge of his ear.

“Jughead Jones.” The man laughed, his breath icy as he murmured in the boy's ear, sending shivers down his spine. “That is your name, correct?” the man chortles again. “I can bet you’re wondering how on earth we know that, hm?”

And he was. Jughead slipped his fingers into his pocket, feeling along the dense sides of his phone. If he could _just_ tap out 911. “How?” his voice was choked and barely decipherable. “How do you know that?”

Another patronising laugh. “Leave that to Betty Cooper, of course. Our own private Clairvoyant. Anyway, back to you, Mr Jones. What exactly have you got to offer us?”

He struggled, fear igniting his veins. “N- nothing! Just let me go! Let them go!" 

“But don’t you want to stay with poor mute little Archie, blind Betty and my personal favourite, Veronica Lodge?” The man is hissing in his ear once again and he strains his neck, trying to get away.

“That girl in there is Hiram Lodge’s daughter. And we fucked her up, big time.”

Of course. Jughead had heard it on the news. Hiram Lodge’s daughter had gone missing without a trace. Yanked from the streets of New York.

Jughead could only stare at the van, at the redhead, Archie, as he knelt next to two other girls, a blonde and a raven-head. The girls were both curled up, both hidden by their hair, but Archie was staring directly at him, his brown eyes wide in disbelief and terror. _I'm sorry_. Archie whispered in his head.

“No real family,” the man continues to murmur in his ear. “Just an alcoholic father.” Jughead struggles, opening his mouth to cry out, but the man's sweaty hand is suddenly pressed against his lips, gagging his scream. _This is bullshit!_ Archie yells in his mind. Archie suddenly gets up and lunges at the man, but something bounces him back and Jughead blinks when he swears for a second he see’s a single white flash, like an invisible force field trapping them inside. But the red-head isn't done yet. _Let him go!_ Archie slams his hands against what appears to be a white sheet of glistening energy and screeches in his head so loud that Jughead has to hold his breath to stop himself from crying out into the man’s palm still covering his mouth.

“I think you’ll be a brilliant addition to our cause.” The man growls in his ear, and Jughead struggles, tries to shout for help, but no sound comes out. Before he knows it, he’s being lifted, hoisted up, his arms pinned behind his back and shoved into the van, straight through the force-field he felt splintering into his body as he impacted with it. “No!” he found his voice, but couldn't quite turn it into a scream. He stumbled on metal flooring, slipping as he forced his hands against the barrier, beating his fists against the sheer white light. “No, you can’t do this!”

The barrier didn't budge, and he simply stared at it, for a second he was completely transfixed. 

“On the contrary, young man,” the man gasped out as he knocked Jughead from his stupor and wrestled the boy to the ground. “I can.”

“Archie,” Jughead could only gasp out in pain, his face pressed against the floor, as he felt the entire weight of the guy holding him down, pinning his arms behind his back. "What did you do to him?" His heart sank when he felt the coil of rope fastening around his wrists. The man ignores him. “I don’t usually tie them up,” he says cheerily, shifting his weight off of Jughead’s back and yanking the boy up. “But you’re a little fighter, aren't you?”

Archie was shuffling backwards, his head bowed in shame. The blonde and Raven-head didn't move, and Jughead found himself being manhandled and shoved next to the blonde. The man forced him to sit cross legged and sat back to admire his handiwork, smiling widely. Jughead grunted, leaning forward and spitting in the man’s face. So many words were clogging his throat, cries and screams and threats, but he found he couldn't speak. His chest seized up and he could only stare ruefully at the man as he pulled a roll of ductape from his jacket pocket.

“Now, are you going to promise me you’re not going to scream?” Jughead stared at the piece of tape the man had ripped off. His stomach clenched and he scowled, before nodding reluctantly. 

“Atta boy!” the guy patted him on the head happily, before stuffing the tape back into his pocket and backing out of the van. Jughead felt his heart clench when the shutters rattled loudly as they slowly descended, trapping him with the kids he tried to save. Before long, there’s a mechanical grumble, and he slides into the side of the van, hard, when the vehicle thrusts forwards.

_Jughead_. Archie’s voice was a whine in his head. He could feel the boy was near. _I told you to run!_

He was too angry, too frustrated and upset to reply. So he pressed his face into his lap and let himself sob into his ratty jeans. The movement of the van was making him feel nauseous. In the end, he had to look up to try and swallow the vomit crawling up his throat. But when he did look up, he found he was inches away from the blonde girl, the one he had seen seemingly asleep, with the raven head. Except she was fully awake now, sitting across from him. She too was cross legged, and when he _really_ looked at her, he saw a halo of straggly blonde curls touching her shoulders and a face so pale she looked malnourished. Though what really captured his attention right then, were her eyes. Or at least her _eye_. Because the one staring at him was the brightest blue he had ever seen. Except it wasn't looking _at_ him, it was staring straight _through_ him. Her other eye was covered by a pirate-style eye-patch. “It’s okay.” She whispered, before closing her eyes. “I can see you, don’t worry.”

"But..." he started to say, and she shushed him. "When my eyes are closed, I can see." she fidgets a little, seemingly uncomfortable. "I can see more than I should."

Blind Betty. Jughead remembers the man saying.

He can only manage an acknowledging sound, before he leans forward in his restraints, wincing. The rope was starting to chafe. “Where are we going?” he finds himself asking, and he hates how broken his voice is, how childish he sounds. But the girl doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes are still closed, and she takes a deep shuddering breath which sounds like a laugh. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

Jughead scowls at her. “Try me.” He growls.

The girl opens her mouth to speak, but instead another voice rings out. Female. “Don’t speak to Betty like that, or I’ll blast your eardrums out.” Jughead twists his head to find Hiram Lodge’s daughter shuffling towards him on her knees. She’s beautiful, he has to admit that. She had long dark hair cascading down her back and olive skin glinting in the dim light of the van. Though he can only see the back of her.

“Veronica...” The partially blind girl, or Betty, murmurs, as if in warning.

“I'm kidding.” The raven head mutters. Then she sighs deeply, turning her head to Archie, who’s sat in the corner, his head pressed against the metal sides of the van. “Oh, Archiekins.” She murmurs. “You've really done it this time. Now they’re gonna Stitch him too.” The girl’s voice wavers sarcastically. “Well done!”

“Stitch?” Jughead can’t help whispering. He struggles in his bonds, the word sending his heart into a frenzy. “What- what does that mean?”

Veronica shuffles closer on her knees, further into the light, so he can see her properly. Her face. He managed to hold back a cry, but the girl only sighs. “Oh, let it out.” She grumbles. “Yes I know,” she self consciously piles her long dark hair in front of her face, though specifically over the ruptured holes where her ears should have been. “I have no ears.” But her smile flickers, almost teasingly. “So how can I hear you, huh?”

_Ignore her._ Archie mutters in his head. _She’s just trying to scare you_.

Hiram Lodge's daughter giggles. “No, I'm not, Archie. I'm just telling the new boy how it is.” Then she focuses her gaze on Jughead, who’s half-wondering how on earth Veronica can hear Archie.

_It’s a psychic link between us_. Archie replies almost automatically in his head. _It’s hard with you, because I'm just forcing my words into your head. When they..._ He hesitates. _If they Stitch you, you should have a psychic link with us too._

Jughead felt like crying. He didn't _want_ to have a psychic link!

Veronica’s voice was almost sing-song, as she knelt next to him, swaying gently, her hands on her bare knees. Betty had wandered over to Archie, and Jughead could hear her murmuring to him. 

"Here's the story of us," Veronica smiles brightly. But Jughead can see the pain, the resentment in her expression, because he was everything she wanted to be and more. Normal. “Archie the singer lost his voice, Veronica the model lost her ears, and Betty the brainiac lost her sight. Her gaze lingers on Jughead, and he tries not to cringe.

“I wonder what you’re going to lose.” she murmurs. Jughead tries to answer, tries to tell her that he’s not going to lose _anything_ because he’s going to get himself and them out of there.

But then Archie’s voice is in his head again. _I wouldn't be so sure, Jughead._

* * *


	2. Yellow Submarine

* * *

**titching is not cruelty. It is giving our gifts to the younger generation, but not playing God as in doing so.**

  * _Doctor Samuel Tanzeni._



~*~

_‘...in the town, where I was born_

_lived a man, who sailed the sea_

_And he told us of his life_

_In the land of submarines.’_

‘Archie.’ Jughead’s voice was thick. No matter how hard he tried to keep it from breaking; he failed. Still, he couldn’t take it anymore. _That_ song was on loop in his head and it was driving him crazy. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t speak to any of the others after they had told him there was no way he was going escape Stitching. Though after the fifteenth chorus of _Yellow Submarine,_ he was finally ready to break that stupid pact to himself. He had known the mysterious Archie Andrews for less than a day and he already wanted to strangle the red-head. 

Considering the circumstances, though, he already felt bad for even _thinking_ that.

He’d been sitting in silence in the same damn position for God knows how long. He’d figured bowing his head and nestling his face in his lap so the others wouldn’t see his gross crying was a good idea but now he couldn’t seem to stop. Jughead hadn’t cried since he’d caught his dad unconscious in the bath at the age of thirteen. Since then, he had hidden under some kind of stupid façade; that he was _always_ okay. That Jughead Jones had never shed a tear in his entire life. He went to Southside High so you kind of _had_ to be tough. But now he was here. Trapped with three kids he had tried to save as he was driven to the same fate. Just thinking about what had been done to them made him want to scream until his throat was raw. But not out loud. Never out loud. He hated that Archie could hear him screaming inside his head.

 _‘Hmm_?’ Archie was quick to reply which pissed him off. Had Archie been singing _Yellow Submarine_ on purpose? Just to keep him awake? There was a beat of silence in his head where the singing cut off before Archie “cleared” his throat. _‘Jughead? Are you okay?’_

Jughead let out a scoff which turned into a sob, though it was muffled in his lap.

‘Am I okay?’ Jughead repeated, hating the way his voice broke like he was some stupid kid. ‘I’ve been kidnapped by a mad scientist!’ he hissed. ‘What do you think?’ He held his breath when tears started to sting his eyes once again and slowly trailed down his cheeks. He was pissed off and needed someone to yell at. If not, he feared he’d go insane. ‘And while we’re talking, why the fuck do you keep singing that stupid Beatles song?’

Jughead felt ridiculous bent over himself; his arms felt like they had been chopped off. He sniffed loudly and wiped his damp eyes against the rough material of his jeans.

Archie had told him that he could project his own thoughts in Jughead’s mind - when he wanted to. That meant the boy was purposely singing _to him_. For a moment, he imagined silencing Archie with his own thoughts - being able to mentally push the other boy out. Of course, at the moment it didn’t work both ways, but eventually he’d be Stitched too. He would be “awarded” the gift of telepathy and he’d join the link that Archie, Betty and Veronica shared. He thought it was creepy, in all honesty, like some kind of hive mind. While he was pretty sure he had wished for some kind of superpower at some point in his adolescent life; he would rather get shot in the head than be part of The Mutant Freak Force.

 _‘Thanks.’_ Archie’s voice came fast, slamming into his thoughts as if the boy had violently stuffed it into Jughead’s skull. ‘ _As for the singing, that stupid fucking song has been in my head ever since I-’_ Archie hesitated, as if the very mention of it would cause Jughead to have a fit. It was pointless though, even if he wanted to blacklist the word from any future conversations; there was no escaping his future. Jughead’s stomach lurched when the van flew over a bump in the road and jerked him forwards.

‘Since you were Stitched,’ Jughead finished out loud, swallowing hard, unable to help the disgust that dripped from his tone. He expected no reply but after a few seconds, the boy’s voice came back, this time softer.

_‘Yeah.’_

Jughead didn’t know what else to say, he figured he had upset Archie with his comments but after a few seconds, the red-head was back in his thoughts.

‘ _I..I didn’t mean to scare you, earlier. I think it’s just a sore subject with me, Betty and Veronica, y’know? We didn’t have a choice, it just…’_ Jughead choked.

‘And I do?’

Archie groaned.

 _‘That’s not what I mean.’_ His tone turned sour. ‘ _It just happened so fast_. _One second I was me, I was Archie, and the next. I..I couldn’t speak_... _there were people in my head telling me to scream as loud as I could, sing as loud as I could. But I couldn’t... and now I can speak only telepathically.’_ Jughead heard the boy’s tone hitch as if he was about to cry. But he managed to compose himself. ‘ _Then I could speak to Betty and Veronica, all three of us could suddenly have these conversations in our own heads…’_ Archie drifted off. It felt like the boy was hesitating to project these thoughts into Jughead’s mind. Like they were too personal.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Jughead muttered in a tone that projected his surrender to the conversation.

‘ _No, I want to talk to someone. The girls hate it when I talk about...the...the procedure.’_

Jughead couldn’t help himself. Even if the very thought of Stitching made him feel sick, he had to know. Some kind of second nature intrigue was attached to the word. It sounded like something from a Mary Shelley novel. Was he going to get his limbs sliced off? Were they going to turn him into some modernized Frankenstein’s Monster?

 _‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that_ ,’ Archie muttered, and Jughead bit his lip.

‘Shit, I’m- I’m sorry,’ Jughead rushed to speak but the other boy just chuckled. It was the first time he had heard Archie laugh and Jughead found himself revelling in it. Even if it technically was still in his head. After a comfortable silence, Jughead sighed. ‘What were you like?’ He asked. ‘Before that bastard took you?’

 _‘Like you_ ,’ Archie muttered in reply. Jughead expected more but the boy lapsed back into silence.

Jughead’s head swam dizzily, his thoughts distant and foggy. He attempted to yank on the bindings that still restricted his arms tightly behind his back. Archie was still silent. Jughead could sense he was near. Earlier, the boy had shuffled over to him and offered to loosen the ropes around his wrists but he’d been stubborn, choosing to continue silently staring into his lap, blocking out – or at least _trying_ to block out the red-head’s voice. “Can you just leave me alone?!” he’d hissed when Archie and Betty had tried to help. It had been a while since then, though Jughead had no sense of time. He felt like he’d been in the van his whole life. The memory of yelling at that particular grumpy redneck at work felt like some kind of vivid hallucination.

Jughead lifted his head slowly, prising his eyes open. He winced when his whole body complained at the sudden movement and he hissed through clenched teeth when the intense lights illuminating the space they were trapped in seared his sight. He shut his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them, he found himself staring at a body stretched out in front of him on the metal flooring. Though there wasn’t just one. Three slumped forms lay at his feet and he glimpsed the familiar halo of sunshine coloured hair hiding Betty Cooper’s disfigured face. Jughead felt his heart skip in his chest. She looked so peaceful, just laying there, curled into herself as if she could hide from this nightmare by simply doing just that.

Next to Betty was Hiram Lodge’s daughter. She had fallen asleep with her arms wrapped around Bettys chest, as if to protect the smaller girl. Veronica Lodge’s hair was spread around her on the floor, exposing the ruptured holes where her ears should have been. Jughead figured he should have felt disgusted, but the fact that she had no ears didn’t make her any less beautiful. Her olive skin shined against the harsh lights of the van, her eyes closed as she buried her head in Betty’s shoulder as she breathed softly in sync with the blonde.

Then of course, there was Archie.

The boy was lying closest to him, he had his head of scruffy crimson curls buried into his arms.

 _‘Betty Cooper_.’ He heard the boy’s voice murmur. ‘ _We were taken at the same time. We’ve been best friends for years.’_

Jughead nodded slowly, his neck stiff. He felt strange talking to Archie while the boy lay on the ground, his legs stretched out, head hidden away in his muscular arms. Jughead was the only one sitting up. Though he couldn’t exactly lie down, even if he was exhausted and his body was trembling. His stomach grumbled but he was pretty sure if he ate something now, he’d throw it back up. He realized he was still in his work t-shirt, the soft cotton material sticking to his damp skin.

He wanted to know the details surrounding Archie and Betty’s past, pre-Stitching, but it was up to Archie if he wanted to tell him. Though after a few minutes of staring at Betty Cooper and wondering how beautiful her eyes had been, he realized he missed the red-head’s voice in his head. Silence drove him mad, and after listening to his own breathing for the sake of not thinking about things like his _fate_ , Jughead drew in a breath.

‘Archie?’ He murmured.

 _‘I’m here_ ,’ Archie mumbled after a few seconds. Jughead thought he might have fallen asleep, but the boy slowly sat up, lifting his head first. His sleepy brown eyes crinkled in irritation when the bright lights of the van hit them and Archie hissed in Jughead’s head. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ the boy grumbled. ‘ _The lights are way too bright_.’ Jughead did his best to shuffle closer to the boy once Archie was sitting up properly.

‘Archie,’ he said softly, swallowing hard. He had to ask now. If he didn’t, he never would. And he’d have to find out for himself.

 _‘Mm?’_ The boy regarded him, his eyes widening curiously. Archie cocked his head, his gaze landing on Jughead’s arms still pinned behind his back. ‘ _Do you want me to untie you?’_

‘I’m okay,’ Jughead lied. Archie, after looking unconvinced, nodded. Just say it!

‘What’s Stitching?’ Jughead whispered, and he swore Betty, supposedly fast asleep on the floor, flinched. Her shoulders jolted for a second, and Veronica let out a shaky sigh. Archie smiled a little. He gestures to the girls.

 _‘They like to talk to each other, telepathically,’_ He murmured softly. ‘ _They never were asleep.’_ There was a pause and then Archie spoke again, this time it wasn’t to Jughead. _‘Veronica_ ,’ He muttered, a warning tone lilting in his voice. ‘ _Be nice.’_

‘So now you wanna know, huh?’ Veronica didn’t open her eyes and breathed softly into Betty’s hair. Archie turned to her, and Jughead watched, mystified, as the two them seemed to be having some kind of telepathic conversation before Veronica let out a scoff, huddling her face back into Betty’s shoulder, grumbling. ‘Stop sugar-coating it, Andrews.’ Archie turned to him again, rolling his eyes.

 _‘Sorry about that_.’ Jughead nodded shakily. He still wasn’t used to being with three kids who defied the laws of physics. 

‘I didn’t mean to scare her,’ Jughead gestured to Betty. Archie nodded.

 _‘It’s okay_.’ He offered Jughead a small smile. ‘ _You didn’t really scare her. She just doesn’t like the word_ -’ He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. Veronica came back to life once again.

‘What Archie means is that she has nightmares every single night about.’ the girl still had her face huddled into Betty but Jughead could tell her teeth were clenched. ‘About what they did to her.’

‘Ronnie,’ Betty finally spoke, her voice soft. Jughead felt his heart clench once again, a swell of anger building in his chest. How could they do that to her? How could they forcefully take her sight? ‘I’m okay,’ Betty said. Her eyes were shut, but Jughead knew she was looking at him, then she sighed. ‘Archie, why don’t you show him?’ Archie’s expression darkened for a glimmer of a second and Veronica groaned.

‘Jesus Christ!’ She hissed. ‘Stop shielding the new boy like he’s some kind of fucking lost puppy! He’s going to find out anyway!’

Jughead saw Archie’s expression twist with anger for a second, and he suddenly really wanted to know what the boy sounded like. What he really sounded like. Jughead imagined Archie opening his mouth and yelling back at the girl, with his actual voice.

_‘What if we get him out? We can- we can try, right? It doesn’t have to happen to him too.’_

‘Keep dreaming, Archie,’ Veronica sighed. ‘Jughead will be newly Stitched and sharing our telepathic connection soon, don’t worry about that.’

 _‘Can you stop being a bitch?’_ Archie yelled, making Jughead wince. More feedback attacked his brain.

‘I don’t get it,’ Veronica bit back. Finally, she sat up, her eyes wide open and glaring at the red-head. ‘Why are you so obsessed with being the hero? Just let the bastards do their thing! It’s inevitable anyway!’

‘I haven’t seen it, though,’ Betty murmured. ‘I’ve seen Cheryl and Kevin but I can’t- I can’t sense Jughead.’ Jughead didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Was that good or bad?

 _‘You’re still seeing those two?’_ Archie hissed. He sounded panicked. ‘ _Does that mean they’re taking kids from Riverdale High?’_ Betty shook her head.

‘I- I don’t know. Oh god, it hurts my head…’ she whimpered, lifting a pale hand and brushing it across her forehead, skimming her eyepatch.

‘B, just sleep, okay?’ Veronica tightened her embrace around Betty’s small form, and the blonde nodded.

‘Right. Sorry, I- I dunno, I can’t-’ her expression crumples. ‘Ronnie, I can’t see what they’re going to do to him, and it scares me.’ The words hit Jughead hard, like a crash of icy water enveloping him, drowning him. But he pretended he hadn’t heard. Though Archie had. The boy sent him a reassuring smile, which seemed to splinter.

 _‘Veronica is a sweet girl, honestly,’_ he says. ‘ _She’s just angry and upset about what they- what they did to her.’_ Jughead only nodded. But he was speechless. Why couldn’t Betty see him being Stitched? ‘ _She’s just scared,’_ Archie continued. ‘ _Because she was the first out of us to be Stitched, she blames herself.’_

‘Why?’ Jughead found himself asking. Archie just shook his head. ‘ _I was a pawn in the gas station to capture you_ ,’ he muttered. ‘ _Who do you think they used to take me and Betty?’_ Jughead didn’t need to answer. His chest tightened at the thought of an oblivious Archie walking straight into the same trap he had. After hesitating, Archie’s voice broke slightly before he heard it loud and clear in his head. ‘ _Jughead, do you really want to know what Stitching is?’_

 **No.** Jughead thought, a part of him screaming at him to just turn away from the others, and continue to sob like a baby, wrapped in his own company.

‘Yes.’ He found his lips mouthing the word, followed by his own voice shakily escaping his lips. Archie nodded, but he seemed distant. He was probably thinking of his friends. Who were in danger of the same fate. Archie lay back down and stared hard at the pipe-lined ceiling of the van.

‘ _It’s not just thoughts I can push into people’s heads_.’ He turned to Jughead. ‘ _It’s memories too. I can…’_ the boy almost sounded like he was in pain. ‘ _I can show you what happened to me.’_ Jughead felt a chill ripple down his spine.

‘How is that even possible?’ he hissed. As if the whole telepathic communication was completely normal.

 _‘It’s…’_ Archie scoffed. ‘ _It’s a long story.’_ Jughead nodded shakily and rested his back against the dense sides of the van. His whole body ached. He chewed his lip, attempting to undo a knot in his restraints, but the rope was too tight. He winced when it rubbed against his already sore wrists. Archie cleared his throat in his head. ‘ _It might take a second. I’m not used to doing this.’_ The boy then rolled onto his side to face Jughead for a moment, his expression wary. ‘ _You sure you’re ready?’_

 **No _._** Jughead felt a rush of anxiety hit him suddenly, but he swallowed his doubt and nodded.

‘I think so.’ Archie smiled reassuringly before lying flat on his back, his eyes flickering shut.

_‘Alright, here we go.’_

Jughead wasn't entirely sure what happened next. The last thing he saw was Archie's expression crumpled with concentration, his eyelids flickering. Before he felt himself plunging into darkness, into a void, where a sudden screech of static attacked his thoughts.

‘No,’ he tried to say, but found he couldn't. Because he couldn't feel his lips, or even his body anymore. The stinging in his wrists from the rope burn was gone, along with the ever present nausea twisting in his gut. ‘No, Archie, stop!’ He wanted to scream. But suddenly the screech became less incoherent and started to sound like...like cheering. Clapping. And then he felt something hit him, a rush of...happiness mixed with terror and pride. He felt adrenaline flooding his veins. Something warm bathed his skin as he tipped his head back, grinning...

No, this wasn't him. These were Archie’s emotions flooding him, enveloping him in a gentle, caressing warmth he never thought he’d feel again. This was Archie’s memory. Jughead blinked his eyes open, suddenly blinded - not by the intense lights of the van, but colourful spotlights dancing across his vision. He felt beads of sweat running down his face, the stage he was standing on.

‘Archie Andrews, everyone!’ someone yelled, followed by a cacophony of cheering and clapping. There were loud footsteps as somebody ran over, a boy with close cropped black hair and a huge grin spread across his face. The image wasn’t completely clear. The audience was a blur, but the boy’s face was almost in picture perfect HD. ‘That was amazing!’ the boy’s voice practically sang out in Jughead’s mind, his voice echoing loudly in his ears.

Kevin Keller.

Archie’s memory supplied the name for him before he even questioned it, and Jughead, in his state of a kind of limbo, suddenly felt something prick in his mind. Betty Cooper’s words suddenly crashing into the memory: _I can sense Kevin and Cheryl, but not Jughead._ She had whispered, clearly distressed. Betty hadn’t seen him being Stitched. Dread filled him just before he was fully plunged into the memory. _Kevin._ Jughead’s last thought strayed between the two minds.

And there he was. Kevin Keller, the supposed next victim in the mysterious Stitching program. And he had no idea. 

* * *

BEFORE.

Before Archie was Stitched, his one goal in life was to make it as a singer.

The uncouth ring in his ears drowned out the cheers as he stared out across the crowd of people. Sweat escaped under from the ember line of his hair, trickling down behind his ears into the collar of his blue plaid shirt. His chest heaved as he heaved humid air, gasping for breath as his heart hammered against his ribs.

‘Archie Andrews everyone!’ Kevin Keller, who stood on his right, yelled excitedly, throwing up his arms in exhilaration. Archie turned his head, still breathing heavily, catching a glimpse of Josie McCoy standing in the wing, a grin plastered on her face. She was yelling something, but he could barely hear her over the audience's applause. Josie stepped out onto the stage and came over, grabbing his arm and holding it high.

‘I think we have a winner!’ she yelled into the crowd, and there was a corresponding cry of agreement. She slung an arm over his shoulder and he could only grin wider as the stage lights danced across his vision. Reds, blues, and oranges swimming across his peripheral. The numbness that had held his body in a tough vice began to lessen and he gripped tighter onto his guitar and managed to get a good look at the audience the more the lights started to dim, signalling the end of the show. Shadowed silhouettes made way for real faces grinning back at him and Archie’s chest swelled with pride. 

‘Archie, that was amazing!’ the sudden hand on his shoulder startled him but the familiar sing-song tone of the sheriff’s son made him relax. He wasn’t sure why he was so tense. ‘I knew you could do it!’ Kevin grinned, Josie nodded, her normally studious and scrutinizing glare which had intimidated him to no end had lit up into a bright smile which contrasted her warm chocolate skin perfectly, as the stages spotlights blinked on once again, washing the three teens in vibrant greens and sunshine yellows.

‘Alright, off the stage now, kids!’ a man’s voice yelled- somewhere on the wing. The talent show was over, and Archie didn’t think his night could get any better. He chuckled to himself as he followed Josie and Kevin off stage, his base guitar in one hand, amp in the other, as the audience began to get up and leave the hall, eagerly rushing backstage to greet their loved ones.

‘Okay, so, next time? Smile more,’ Josie was laughing, her arms folded across her cat-suit as her pussycat ears lightly bounced on her scalp. Her puffed cheeks and exhilarated voice as she ranted on about “not looking like death” when performing, was pretty entertaining to say the least. The backstage area was crowded with people eagerly coming over to him and yelling their congratulations in any manner. Josie and Kevin talked animatedly around him as he packed all of his stuff up, grabbing his bag from where it still sat where he’d left it. Funny. He swore he had texted Betty to keep it safe. ‘Keep your facial expression cool and relaxed,’ Josie was saying, as Kevin sat cross legged on the floor, his index finger eagerly flicking down his phone.

‘Oh god, Cheryl put up loads of photo’s.’ The boy groaned. ‘Now it’s going to take me three years to untag myself from them all.’ Archie found his jacket and slung it over his shoulders before finally turning to the two teens. His heart was still racing from the performance, and their consistent chatter was hard to keep up with.

‘Guys,’ he smiled, dragging a hand through his ginger hair. ‘Have any of you seen Betty?’ He pawed in his jacket pocket for his phone and pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

‘Actually… no I haven't, now I think about it,’ Kevin replied. ‘She said she was coming tonight, right?’ Archie was still staring hard at his phone screen. There was almost always a message from Betty.

‘She said she wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he mumbled, his stomach sinking slightly. There was a beat of silence as Kevin and Josie exchanged glances while Archie flicked through all means of social media he had. He brought up the text he’d sent an hour ago. Just before the performance.

‘We’ll go look for her,’ Kevin smiled reassuringly, grabbing Josie. The girl nodded. ‘Wait here.’ The two ran off, leaving Archie alone. Well, mostly alone. There were a few meandering contestants and their families grabbing selfies, but apart from that, it was just him. Archie sighed to himself, finding a seat on an amp box and slumping down. The adrenaline from the performance had gone, leaving his mind foggy. He stared down at his phone. He couldn’t help it. One text. That’s all he needed. One text and he’d know she was okay. 

**7:12:pm: Archie: I’m so nervous!**

**7:14:pm: Betty: Don’t be nervous! You’re gonna do great! I’ll be right there in the audience, cheering you on <3**

**7:35:pm: Archie: Oh god I’m about to go on I’m so nervous. Josie is yelling at me haha**

She hadn’t replied after that. And he figured, yeah. She was probably busy with something, or perhaps something had come up. But she would have texted him and told him that. The weight on his chest got heavier. Betty never missed a text. Even if it was at 2am and he’d been up all night drinking a bottle of his dad’s tequila. Betty was there to tell him to shut up and go to sleep in the nicest way possible. Sometimes she even went over and joined him. Archie and Betty had been friends since they were toddlers. They were the boy and girl next door, him being the jock on varsity with girls after him, and she was the smartest girl in their year, with the highest GPA on record.

They didn’t fit. But at the same time, they did.

The point was, Betty always texted back. He had been almost positive his phone’s screen would suddenly light up with a text from her. He held it in front of him, his brown eyes narrowing at the dark screen. Except it didn’t. A hand was suddenly clamping down on his shoulder.

‘You did great out there, kid,’ Archie looked up suddenly, meeting eyes with his father. Fred Andrews stood over him, a bright smile and unmistakeable tint of pride in his voice. Archie nodded with a small smile, humbled.

‘Thanks, dad.’ Though his tone was flat. He couldn’t stop thinking about- ‘Have you seen Betty?’ Archie asked his father as Fred picked up his guitar with a grunt. The man nodded.

‘Yeah, about half an hour ago? In the school parking lot. I saw her when I was parking up.’ Archie shot up from the amp box.

‘Really?’ He was halfway to the fire exit before Fred could say any more.

‘I’m just going to have a word with Mr Wetherby about those music classes you were after, and then we’ll motor, okay?’ Archie nodded.

‘I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes.’ He was off like a rocket before the man could utter another word.

_The memory stopped for a second, as if someone had hit the pause button. Jughead found himself staring at a freeze-frame as Archie ran towards the fire exit, his hands out in front of him as he grabbed for the handle. But then the image disappeared, making way for a new shot from the boy’s perspective. This time Archie was staring up at a clinical white ceiling as a man wearing a surgical mask bent over him, blue eyes wide in excitement._

‘Still awake, Mr Andrews?’ The man jeered, the surgical mask muffled his tone, but his eyes said it all. Archie couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He could only stare into the doctor’s scrutinizing eyes with as much hatred as he could muster.

_No. Jughead wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t. He was as helpless as the boy strapped to the hospital bed. No, Archie, I don’t want to see this! As if the boy had heard him, the image in his head once again froze- just as the doctor was leaning over the boy, poking a slender finger into the flesh of his neck._

Then he was standing in the darkness. Silhouettes of cars surrounded him as the boy hurriedly paced the concrete, gaze hyper vigilant as he scanned the pitch dark for his friend. But she was nowhere to be seen. And Archie was getting progressively more worried and on-edge.

‘Betty?’ Archie cupped his hands over his mouth as he yelled the girl’s name. He walked slowly through the parking lot, in between parked cars. His converse crunched on the gravel and he cringed at the sound. It was quiet. Way too quiet. Archie shivered, despite the warm June heat enveloping him. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried once again. ‘Betty!’ he startled when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly pulled it out eagerly, glancing at the screen. But his face fell when Kevin’s name lit up his notifications.

 **Kevin:** **No sign of her. Have you checked the B+G office?** 8:35PM

Archie huffed out a breath and started to type out a reply **,** but a sudden firm grip clamping down on his shoulder caused him to swivel around, a disconcerted look of fright on his face. There was a man standing, practically looming over him. Something about his expression, the way he was standing, gave Archie the creeps.

 _Him_. _Jughead felt something slam into Archie’s memory and hit him. It was the overwhelming sense of fear-twisting and turning his stomach and eating away at his brain. A sudden flutter of images, of memories, suddenly came alive and they were all the same thing. The man’s face. At different angles. Different expressions. Dark eyes, twisted grins and a thunderous laugh which seemed to bring them all together, stitching them in place. Archie was terrified of him._

‘Hello!’ The man smiled politely, and Archie didn’t know what else to say.

‘Hey,’ he frowned, ‘uh...I’m looking for my friend, so if you don’t mind…’ Archie took a few steps backwards but the man was suddenly in front of him again, and Archie had a hard time understanding how.

‘Mr Andrews!’ The man crooned. ‘Archie is it?’ Archie nodded uneasily.

‘Yeah?’ He tried to look and sound as defensive as possible. The parking lot was empty apart from the two of them, which was enough to start alarm bells ringing in his head. The man took another step towards him, but this time Archie didn’t take one back. He found himself glued to the ground as he practically touched noses with the strange man. His heart started to thunder in his chest.

‘Archie, I watched your performance,’ the man’s lip curled and he cocked an eyebrow suggestively. ‘You really have a knack for singing, don’t you?’ Archie found himself nodding. He’d do anything to get away from the weirdo.

‘I guess?’ He shrugged, deciding to take another subtle step back. The man adapted the smile of a Cheshire cat.

‘Mr Andrews, this is very cheeky of me, but what would you say about joining my cause?’ Another step back. Though this time he was forcing down the irresistible urge to cry out for his dad, or Betty. Anyone. Archie swallowed hard and tried to ignore the man’s impenetrable grin.

Cause?” he repeated, hating how choked his voice was. ‘What are you talking about? What Cause?’ He took another step back, but found himself slamming into something hard and metal. ‘What?’ He spun around, his gut squeezing, when he found himself staring at a white transit van. Archie’s gaze skimmed over the shutters while an icy shiver began to slowly creep down his spine.

‘I..I need to go,’ he managed after a second. ‘My dad’s-“‘ he hesitated, glancing at the man’s smirk. Archie’s expression darkened. ‘What do you want?’ He hissed. ‘Look, I- I have somewhere I need to-’ he cut off abruptly when the guy’s arm shot out, grabbing his before he could make a run for it. The man quickly yanked him close.

‘Oh, but don’t you want to see a demonstration?’ Before Archie could utter a word, or even try and get away the guy was slinging an arm over his shoulders which wound around his neck. Tight.

‘What are you doing?’ Archie yelled, his cry penetrating the night. ‘Get the hell off me!’ He tried to struggle but the man’s grip was impossibly firm.

‘Young man, I suggest you stop struggling and simply let me show you the beauty of our Cause,’ the man’s polite and kind façade disappeared as he spat into the boy’s ear, keeping Archie in a death grip. Archie was shaking.

‘What the hell are you talking about? Let me fucking go!’ He purposely elevated his voice but the man slammed a hand over his mouth, gagging his next cry.

‘Listen here you little brat,’ the man hissed. ‘I think you need a lesson in respecting your elders.’ Archie tried to bring his hands up to beat the man’s hand away from his mouth, but the man applied harsh pressure over his nose and mouth and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

He stopped resisting.

‘There we are,’ the man said as he loosened his grip slightly, and Archie could only hang helplessly in the man’s grip. ‘Now,’ he hissed in Archie’s ear. ‘I’ll ask you one more time. Would you like to join our Cause?’

‘No,’ Archie muffled into the man’s hand, before biting into the podgy flesh of his palm. But the man didn’t cry out, to his surprise and disdain.

‘I’m sorry,’ the man growled, pressed his palm against Archie’s mouth and nose, once again cutting off his oxygen supply. Archie struggled, but to no avail. ‘What was that?’

‘Ye- yes!’ Archie puffed for air desperately under the man’s heavy hand. The guy let out a triumphant laugh which chilled him to the core.

‘Wonderful! That’s all you had to say, boy!’ The man let go of him and he gasped for breath, staggering backwards as he fought to stay upright. ‘Now I think a demonstration is in order.’ The man pointed to him, a smile slithering on his lips. ‘Stay.’ And to Archie’s amazement, he did.

‘What-?’ he fought back another scream when the man pulled out a revolver.

‘Shut the hell up and watch.’ Archie could only stiffly stay rooted to the ground, his panicked gaze following the man’s pointer finger. ‘Veronica, dear, if you continue to defy me, I won’t Stitch him, I’ll kill him.’

‘N- no,’ was all Archie could utter, desperately. The man continued to glare into the dark of the van.

‘Veronica,’ he hissed. ‘Aren’t you going to come out and show him what we have to offer?’ Archie had no idea who the man was talking to. His gaze strayed on the van’s shutters when they rattled and began to slowly ascend. ‘Now, Mr Andrews,’ the man was suddenly grabbing him and yanking him, stumbling to the van’s entrance. ‘Do you know of Veronica Lodge?’

Where was his Dad? Archie tried to turn his head to scan the parking lot. Silent. Empty.

 _‘Now this is the fun part_.’ A voice was suddenly in his head. The man’s voice, trickling into his thoughts. Archie couldn’t breathe. He tried to shake his head, ridding of the voice, but it only grew louder. ‘ _Well, look at that. Your father isn’t here to help his dear son_. _Pity_. _Don’t start thinking anyone’s coming for you, dear boy. This whole place is under a glimmer.’_

‘How…?’ Archie hissed out. ‘How are you doing that?’ The man ignored him.

‘I said, Mr Andrews. Do you know of Veronica Lodge?’

Archie could only nod, as if on autopilot. He tried to move once again, but it was like something- an unseen force, held him firmly in place. Veronica Lodge was the well-known heiress, daughter of Hiram Lodge, one of richest men in America. He’d seen her in magazines, sometimes. She did a lot of photoshoots. He was used to seeing her shining olive skin and sleek black hair, her flirtatious smile, when he was flipping through one of Betty’s teen beauty magazines.

Except Veronica Lodge had gone missing two weeks ago.

The van’s shutters finally came to an abrupt halt, having revealed the contents of the white transit. Though Archie couldn’t see properly. He squinted, his chest tightening, when a figure seemed to slowly plunge through the darkness of the van. It took him a few dizzying seconds to realize- it _was_ Veronica Lodge. But not the teen model he knew. This girl was on her knees, dressed in a discoloured white dress barely reaching her knees. Archie stared at the girl, his converse scuffing on the pavement as he tried to stumble away. The girl’s head was bowed, a sheath of her ebony hair covering her eyes. Something white was wrapped around her head, covering her ears. Veronica’s lips were curled with disgust, with fear.

‘Don’t make me do this.’ Her voice was soft. Dangerous. She lifted her head slowly. Archie let out a hissed breath. He could see her properly now. Her filthy skin, tired eyes wide with fright and confusion, her lips twisted into a scowl. Veronica folded her arms across her chest, but he could see she was shaking. ‘I-’her voice broke, her gaze suddenly on Archie. ‘I’m sorry.’ Archie stared, before struggling violently. He threw himself forwards, but the man hang on and he was simply yanked back like an elastic band. The ground seemingly continued to hold his feet hostage. He couldn’t move.

‘Sorry for what?’ He gasped out.

Veronica shook her head, as if in apology. Archie could only stare as she opened her mouth. He thought she might cry for help, scream for her father. But instead of a coherent scream- what he was used to- a wail escaped her mouth as her lips stretched into a horrified cry.

His first thought was to slam his hands over his ears, but the man had his hands pinned tightly behind his back. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard before. A piercing screech assaulting the air, attacking him like a blast of heat. Except Archie felt the ground rumble under his feet. He cried out, his knees giving away as he hit the pavement- face first. But the girl didn’t stop. The van started to sway as her voice rattled it into some kind of submission. Archie was aware of the fact that he was screaming, his cry echoing the girl’s. He tried to dig his face into the rubble. He could feel something trickling from his ear.

‘Stop!’ He cried out. ‘Please!’ The world around him swayed, as if the very ground beneath his feet was trembling. He pawed around on the ground for some kind of leverage, but the girl’s scream was tearing into his brain, numbing his senses, his thought processes. He could only kneel and take it.

‘Now.’ The man had bent down to murmur in his ear. ‘What do you say, boy? I was thinking Telepathy?’

‘Yes,’ Archie heard himself cry over the girl’s overwhelming screech. The man’s words didn’t make sense. He just wanted it to stop- for it all to stop. ‘Yes- yes! Just stop it!’ The man’s laugh startled him.

‘That’s enough, young lady.’ He felt arms wrap around his waist and drag him to his feet. But this time he didn’t fight back. The girl’s scream was still ringing in his brain, tearing him apart from the inside. But Veronica didn’t stop. She was still kneeling when he bothered lifting his gaze. Tears sprang to his eyes. Helpless, babyish tears. Veronica’s lips were locked in a wide, terrified scream. Her eyes were wild, as if she was trying to stop it, but the scream continued to pierce his brain. Archie managed to stare at the girl through fraying eyelids. His chest was heaving, his throat dry.

‘You’re- you’re hurting her!’ He cried, snarling with fury when he felt the man shove ear plugs in his ears and prodded at his face with a tissue.

The sound of the girl’s scream wasn’t so intense then, because of the plugs. But Archie didn’t care about himself any more. He watched in mute horror as the girl began to tremble, then shake, as the scream continued to stream from her lips. Her gaze was set on him, her hands clawing desperately at her hair- at the bandage wrapped tightly around her head.

Veronica’s nose started to ooze blood as the wail continued to carry her, but haemorrhaging her ears and nose. Archie swallowed bile as he watched dark spots of scarlet appear through the bandage. But she didn’t seem strong enough to hold it any longer. Veronica strayed for a few seconds, swaying on her knees as the scream grew strangled in her throat, before falling backwards into the darkness, her cry cutting off almost instantly.

Silence once again wrapped around him, but his ears still ached, his head was still pounding with pressure. Archie couldn’t help it. He struggled from the man’s grip, but it was easy. The guy let him. He stumbled over to the van’s entrance and peered in, rising on his toes. 

‘What did-?’ He gasped for breath, tears trailing down his cheeks. ‘What did you do to her?’

‘Stitching, Mr Andrews.’ The man came up behind him, leering in Archie’s ear. ‘We gave Miss Lodge the power of a Banshee.’ Archie spun around, his eyes flaring with anger, with confusion and fear.

‘A what?’ The man grinned excitedly.

‘A banshee.’ The man repeated, his grin widening. ‘Oh Archie,’ he cupped Archie’s face fatherly, swiping the boy’s neck once again with the bloody tissue. ‘You use your voice far too much.’ He murmured. ‘If only there was a way to shut you up for good.’

‘Go...to...hell,’ Archie hissed back, pushing the man away. The man only leaned closer. ‘Now, are you going to scream? Because I’d love to see you going to town on your vocal chords before I rip them out.’

Archie stilled, his heart starting to pound. ‘You sick fuck.’ He mumbled, turning his head in disgust when the man clicked his tongue, reaching out once again with the tissue. ‘Ah, you’ve got blood on your neck, you silly boy.’

Archie didn’t move. ‘Veronica.’ He managed to choke out. ‘Did you kill her?’

The man rolled his eyes. ‘It happens all the time. She’s a fucking drama queen.’

‘Though, enough about Miss Lodge!’ He was suddenly grabbing Archie in one of his vice grips and yanking him up, flailing, before shoving him into the van. ‘By the way, I think your missing friend is closer than you think.’

‘Wh- what?’ Archie only managed to cry out, before he was flying forward into darkness, knocking his head on something hard. He saw stars explode across his vision, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Veronica- the way she had dropped, like her puppet strings had been cut. Archie groaned, rolling on the floor, his body slamming into something hard and metal- and cold, before rolling into a something warm- something...moving. He leapt up, sliding on the flooring, peering around in the darkness. He only had enough time to lunge forwards, trying a one last ditch effort to escape, before he felt his hands slam into- into..something. ‘Let...let me out!’ He shrieked, pummelling what looked like an opaque glass door which was impenetrable. He couldn’t get through it. His head span, dizzying thoughts overwhelming him before he remembered the girl. Veronica. Sobbing to himself, Archie stumbled around on his knees, trying to paw around for something living.

 _‘Let there be light!’_ The man yelled in his head, and he bit back a cry when something so impossible, so far from reality, struck inside his brain, like the man was directly inside his skull. He yelped when the space around him suddenly lit up in a piercing gaze and glanced up, shading his eyes at the blazing bulbs attached to the van’s ceiling. Archie felt himself slump to the ground and buried his face in his knees, screaming into his jeans. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push the voice out of his head.

‘Archie?’ A sudden voice, a voice so familiar it struck ice in his heart. He lifted his head, eyes raw and peered through his straggly ginger hair hanging in his eyes. The van space was lit an intense bright yellow, and he could only stare as his sore eyes adjusted.

Betty Cooper. He let out a startled breath which choked into a sob. Betty Cooper, his best friend, was curled up in the corner, still wearing her baby pink dress he’d seen her in earlier, just before his performance. She was bent over the unconscious girl. Veronica Lodge. Who lay there, her eyes closed, blood smearing down her cheeks. She must have been crying blood. Betty’s expression was blank, her normal strict blonde ponytail was slowly falling out, strands of her hair hanging in her eyes as she pressed shaky fingers to the girl’s neck.

‘Betty…’ Archie managed to hiss, through his teeth. He found himself crawling forwards and knelt next to his friend, peering over Veronica’s body. ‘Is she…?’ He could only whisper but Betty shook her head. Archie didn’t know what to do, then. He let his body slide to the ground, and he curled into himself, burying his head in his arms. He heard Betty start to sob, and tried desperately to hold it together himself.

‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Betty’s cry sent shivers down his spine. ‘Are we- are we going to end up like her?’ Archie didn’t answer. Because the man’s voice was in his head once again. And no matter how hard he clawed at his hair and silently screamed into the ice cold floor- it still rang in his ears- a delightful leer, ripping into his brain.

_‘Oh, Mr Andrews. With your voice and Betty’s intelligence, we have wonderful plans for the two of you.’_

* * *

_‘So we sailed up to the sun_

_Till we found the sea of green_

_And we lived upon the waves_

_In our yellow submarine’_

_‘How much longer?’ Jughead found himself asking. He felt his lips once more, as part of him slid back into reality- where he was still lying on his back in the white van, He was positive he had been crying. Screaming even. A soft voice belonging to Betty Cooper, was distant in his ears. But it wasn’t Betty from Archie’s memory, the girl in the baby pink dress, still with her sight. Still with her shining blue eyes. No, it was Stitched Betty. The girl they had taken, along with inspiring singer Archie Andrews, and turned them into monsters._

_‘Jughead?” He could hear her murmur. He could sense her leaning over him._

_‘He won’t wake up until Archie lets him.’ Another murmur. Veronica. He felt her presence near. ‘Just let him wade his way through it okay?’ Her voice was soft and silky, reassuring to the blonde. Jughead tried not to think about her in the red-head’s memory. Her ear-splitting cry that had tore from her lips while her wild eyes had pleaded for mercy._

_‘Not long.’ Jughead startled at the sound of Archie’s voice, as he floated in-between his own mind and the red-head’s. Archie paused for a second. ‘I just...I want to show you this.’ The boy whispered softly. ‘I want to show you, because I’m going to get you out before they do it to you. Even if it kills me. Do you understand me?'_

_Jughead stayed silent. He was afraid of what he would say if he dared speak. Instead he let Archie’s voice seep into his thoughts like maple syrup. Slowly drowning him._

_‘Jughead, this...’ Archie’s voice trembled, and Jughead fought back the urge to cry out that he didn’t want this anymore. He wanted out. But he kept his mouth shut and allowed Archie to show him. ‘This is Stitching.’_

BEFORE

‘Now, Archie. Stop struggling. You know it gets you nowhere.’ Archie didn’t stop. Even when they restrained him to a chair, fastening his wrists tightly to the arm rests with tough Velcro that he continued to yank at, no matter how many times the man sitting in front of him told him to not to.

‘What is this?’ He had yelled, his voice hoarse. ‘Why- why are you doing this?’ He hadn’t stopped crying since they took Betty away, and it had taken four armed men and threatening his father’s life to finally make him stop. But Archie couldn’t stop thinking about that last second he had seen her. Betty Cooper. Being dragged away from him.

‘Archie!’ She had screamed, digging the heels of her shoes into the posh marble flooring of the institute they had been taken to. ‘Archie, don’t let them do this to me!’ She had been crying, wailing, as she was yanked violently backwards. Her blonde hair - halo hair he’d used to call it - was dangling in straggly knots in her pale face; her blue eyes wide and terrified. They said they were going to take her sight. Archie tried to hold onto the image of his best friend. But not that Betty Cooper. It was the girl he had grown up with. The girl who had sat in his treehouse with him at the age of eleven, shining eyes glistening with tears as the two of them watched a soppy film on Hal Cooper’s old TV set. He wouldn’t remember this Betty. This hysterical, screaming Betty. _But he would._

He had tried to lunge for her but his arms had been strictly restrained behind his back. He’d been screaming himself, screaming her name, screaming threats to the people holding him back. But if he was honest with himself, it was mostly for Betty. He just needed to _scream_. He needed to cry and screech and yell until his throat ached. They were going to take it away. His voice. Despite the unimaginable outcome of the procedure, he still couldn’t think about himself. Not when Betty was being taken away to be ‘Stitched’. He didn’t know what it meant, didn’t understand what was going to happen to him. The only certainty was that they were going to change the both of them, forever.

‘Oh it’s so much more than that, Mr Andrews!’ The man, still nameless in his head, snapped him out of it. Archie squirmed in his bindings and tightened his fingers around the plastic edges of the arm rests. He forgot the nameless man could somehow hear his thoughts. He stiffened in his chair and fixed the man with a glare.

‘Let us go,’ he pleaded, ashamed at how broken his voice was; he knew he was going to be Stitched. He was trapped - but there was still a hint of rebellion still flowing through him; desperate to tear its way out of his chest.

‘Archie,’ the man sighed as he straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘You do know why we do this, right?’ He couldn’t help it; anger rippled through him.

‘Revelling in your sick fucking fantasies?’ He spat in the elder man’s direction, trying once again to vault from his chair but the tough restraints yanked him back. He was still wearing his shirt and tie from the performance, which appeared to be the only factor out of place in the small doctors suite he was in. It was identical to a hospital suite. There was a bed just behind him, and every time he glimpsed sight of it, his stomach jolted.

‘No.’ The man knelt in front of him once again, his expression darkening. ‘Do you realise how lucky you are? Do you know how many kids would kill for what we’re giving you?’ When the boy didn’t answer, the man chortled. ‘Come on, Mr Andrews,’ he murmured, a smirk flickering on his lips. ‘I bet at one point in your life you’ve wanted to be Spider Man.’ Archie scoffed out a laugh, which slowly morphed into a sob. He bent his head back, squeezing his eyes shut against the stupid tears that pricked at his eyelids.

‘Yeah, when I was eight. I grew up!’ The man looked like he might want to argue but instead he sighed.

‘What we’ll be performing in the next couple of minutes is called a Cordectomy.’ The man explained, suddenly adapting a professional tone. ‘We will be removing your vocal cords, or if we’re being fancy here- your Larynx.’ Archie stiffened at the word, but he didn’t move his head, his brown eyes refusing to stray from the ceiling tiles. ‘We will then go on to perform a minor surgery on your central lobe where we will be-‘ Archie blocked out the rest. Nevertheless, the man continued. ‘...This will take away your ability to speak.’ He added, for a moment he sounded forlorn. ‘But, young man! Why speak when you can project your voice into the head’s of others?’

‘You sound like a cheesy commercial,’ Archie spat back. “You better let me go, or- or my dad-‘ he trailed off.

‘Fred Andrews is safe until now,’ the man sighed. ‘As is Alice Cooper. Ooh, and FP Jones.’ He winks. ‘But that’s spoiler.’ Archie didn’t realize he had been gripping the armrest until pain shot through his fingertips and he pried them off the sharp plastic. Finally, he did look up. After the man had finished explaining, he moved onto talking about post-procedure; how they had special talents which would heal him quickly. But Archie wasn’t listening to any of that. Through the man’s warbling in his head, he lifted his gaze and finally made eye contact with the nameless monster.

‘Rot in hell,’ he growled. The man laughed, leaning forward.

‘Archie, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much.’ He took a step back, spreading his arms, that same glimmer of joy in his eyes stretching his lips into a cruel grin. ‘Soon you’ll be singing into people’s heads! How exciting is that?’ Archie finally lost it kicking his right leg out aggressively. 

‘You’re crazy!’ The fear that had been building up inside him, slowly eating away at any logical thought; finally he erupted. He tossed and turned in his chair, throwing himself forwards and backwards, even to the side. But it was no use. The man only leered at his attempts to escape, at his scarlet face as tears trailed down his cheeks.

‘No, Archie,’ the man only shook his head, never losing that joyous grin lighting up his whole face. ‘I’m a genius.’ Everything seemed to go so fast after that. Before Archie knew, he was strapped to the hospital bed, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. He could only gasp into the plastic, clenching his fists. They had already fed him anaesthetic and now it was a waiting game. His eyelids began to grow heavy and he swallowed the dread building in his throat. He was going to lose his voice. He was never going to be able to speak again. The man disappeared for a while, as Archie fought his way through some kind of escape attempt which didn’t work. Before he knew it, the psychopath was looming over him. ‘As of five minutes ago, we have our first Clairvoyant of your generation!’

Archie felt his heart splinter.

Betty.

The man, now dressed blue scrubs and a surgical mask, leaned over his bed causing gooseflesh to ripple down his arms.

‘Get..’ he struggled with speech. ‘Get away from me.’ The man seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

‘Why don’t you sing a little song before the procedure? We can do an encore?’ Archie didn’t reply as the man pulled out an iPhone, and his heart dropped into his stomach when he recognized it as his own. ‘YouTube.’ He muttered, flicking his finger down the screen. Archie flinched. He couldn’t help watching. ‘Ah,’ the man crooned, his eyes lighting up at the screen. ‘I know a few Beatles songs, how about one of them?’ Archie didn’t answer, and before he knew it, the upbeat melody of a song was beginning to fill his ears. He managed to tear his gaze away, but dark spots started to splatter his vision, and he felt his head start to fill with fog. The man began to hum to the song, continuing to scroll through Archie’s phone. ‘So tell me,’ the man sent him a suggestive smirk. ‘Who is this Kevin Keller?”

Archie couldn’t reply.

He could only listen to the sweet melody, twisted by the man’s voice as it seeped through his foggy brain as he felt himself slowly start to fall.....

_‘We all live in a Yellow submarine,_

_Yellow submarine, Yellow submarine_

_We all live in a Yellow submarine_

_Yellow submarine, Yellow submarine’_

~*~


	3. Lilo and Stitch

* * *

Archie’s memory was far from over.

Jughead anticipated waking up. He secretly cried out for the redhead to retract from his mind, but the splintered flashes of trauma still twisted and turned, suffocating his senses. He could no longer control his body but that didn’t mean it was numb, Archie’s pain channelled throughout his every nerve, igniting every pain receptor. There was no release, no sadistic pleasure in screaming but he was certain he was doing just that; screaming as though he beheld the screech of a Banshee that Veronica Lodge now had. He could hear Betty Cooper’s soft voice trying to get him to calm down, seeping through the cracks in his consciousness, but the memories were too much. Too fast. They dug inside him, rooting themselves into his own memories; his own fears. He could still hear the revolting tones of Yellow Submarine on the brink of Archie’s connection. The man still singing along, twisting the lyrics and tainting them forever.

 _‘You’re doing great, Jughead.’_ Archie’s voice was soft, apologetic - it almost blended in with the song still draping itself around him like a vice grip refusing to let go. Jughead wanted to reply, he knew he could if he cried loudly enough but something was holding him back. If he did manage to reply to the boy, what would he say? How could he possibly make it stop? Not just for his sake but for Archie’s too. He’d seen inside the boy’s deepest and darkest memory. The one thing that gave him nightmares and made him cry himself to sleep every night. Archie’s pain and anger and terror pulsed through him like blundering bolts of electricity. _‘Just a little more.’_ Archie’s voice sounded out once, pleading Jughead to hold on. His thoughts were trembling and Jughead couldn’t blame him. _‘It’s not as bad now,’_ the red-head murmured, almost dreamily.

It may have convinced Archie one time or another but Jughead wasn’t convinced. He could still feel the pain even if Archie tried to blur it. Jughead would hold on. Archie wanted, no – needed Jughead to see it because at the time, Archie had to go through it on his own. Terrified, no comfort from strangers in the back of the van to somewhat prepare him. So, no matter how scared Jughead was, how much he wanted to force himself back into reality into the awaiting arms of Betty Cooper; he held on.

And just like before, it flooded through him, enveloping him further into Archie’s mind. He knew this feeling well – long before he was dragged into this nightmare. Drowning. It was a long time ago. He’d miscalculated the depth of the ocean waters. He remembered sinking under the water, feeling the salty liquid filling his mouth – waiting to greet his lungs - weighing him down so that he couldn’t scream. But this wasn’t the ocean, he wasn’t going to die. Archie clawed further inside his head, holding his own thoughts hostage as the trauma pushed inside him, deeper and deeper until he no choice but to let go. This time it was hopelessness that choked in his throat.

It was of terror and sadness, accompanied with a terrified cry that wasn’t and would never be heard again. Jughead cowered against Archie’s cry for his Father, and fought against a cry for his own.

‘Dad!’ Archie yelled, his swollen eyes bolted open as he tried to push up against the restraints that held him down. And just like that, Jughead was there with him once again.

* * *

When Archie drifted back to consciousness, his first feeling was _pain_. He felt it envelope him, like a vicious wave of icy water. He was groggy for a second, basking In the sound of the heart monitor above him. Then there was the buzzing. He heard it the second he came to. It felt like there were wasps inside his head, buzzing around his skull. At first he was confused. Had he been in an accident? The inconsistent _bleep_ of the machine by his bed and the prick in his hand, which could only be from an IV, made it evident he was in hospital. But what for? Was it a car accident?

But he didn’t drive.

Among various thoughts flying around his head when he came to, the one that dominated, was that he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed. Except- he was awake; he felt the sturdy mattress holding his weight. 

Archie grimaced; his lips twisting in irritation as the buzzing grew louder and more infuriating. What the hell was that? The buzzing became something more, however. A static vibration suddenly leaching itself to his consciousness and taking him over. For a second, there was nothing. Then...crackling. It started as a soft murmur, almost incomprehensible. But grew into a low screech which sounded like the love-child of a dentist drill and car alarm, ringing in his head. There was something else. It echoed the tinny noise in his head, like a second radio station overlapping the first. Archie felt fear fuse through him, attacking every nerve ending like bolts of lightning.

Archie spent a good few minutes trapped in his own mind fog, trying to pry for memories. It came back, like he was reliving it all over again. The Talent show. Being kidnapped. Bits and pieces of his splintered memory hit him suddenly, like a crash to the face. The Nameless man. Veronica Lodge, Hiram Lodge’s daughter. Her piercing scream exploding his ears, his thoughts, everything. Betty Cooper being dragged away from him, crying and screaming his name. Her facial expression was embedded in his memory. Her frightened eyes and lips twisted into a terrified screech, her blonde hair whipping across her pale cheeks as she viciously fought against her kidnappers.

Yellow Submarine.

He remembered the man singing it softly in his ears, as the drugs began to drag him into darkness. He remembered the man’s last words. _Who is this Kevin Keller?_

‘Kevin!’ Archie tries to scream. He desperately tries to spring up. But something holds him down. He can’t hear his own agonized cry.

 _‘What did you do to me?’_ He cried out in his head. But the answer was already there, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He felt the soft bandages wrapped around his head. They had Stitched him. Like they had Stitched Betty and Veronica. **He had no voice.** As Archie started to become more and more clear-headed, he started to realize something was- missing. He felt it, like an abyss inside him. It felt like it was drowning him. This- this missing part of him. It was his voice.

‘ _No_.’ He mentally whimpered. ‘ _No, no, no!_ ’ Instead of his voice, there was only static bouncing back in his skull, like it was taunting him. ‘ _Dad!’_ He cried out. ‘ _Dad, please help me!’_ But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t cry out for his dad. He tried to say it, to speak it- force the words from his mouth but the turbulent hissing noise in his head only grew louder, followed almost instantly, by what he was pretty sure was a radio. He heard it bouncing from the walls, echoing in his mind as if it was on a stuck record.

 **Focus.** He forced himself to relax, despite his thundering heart banging against his ribcage _. Focus on something that mattered, that he cared about_. The bleeping of the heart monitor wasn’t helping. It elevated as his breathing became more heavy and gasping, as he fought to try and find his voice to cry out. Betty. He imagined her. Like she had always been. Beautiful Betty. Smart Betty. The girl who had a fierceness in her gaze, a smile he adored. No. Something was- was wrong. The buzzing wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t just a side affect of being Stitched, it was something else. Archie tried to dig through his scrambled memory for something- anything- that the man had said. But all he remembered was the smooth melody of Yellow Submarine drifting through his ears as the man had grinned at him with yellowing teeth.

‘We’re going to take your voice away.’

The buzzing continued. Like a dead radio station signal being plunged into his brain, he felt a chill ripple its way through him, as he cleared his head, breathing hard. He could feel his heart starting to batter against his chest. _It's not real_. He told himself, then louder; _It’s not real!_ But it was real. The buzzing got louder and more incoherent- followed by a sudden screech of static that dug inside his head as if something was trying to get through. He needed to wake up. That was his first thought but panic overwhelmed him. He pawed around desperately, his heart sinking when he grabbed fistfuls of what felt like bed-sheets. He could smell them. The rich smell of antiseptic. It hit his nostrils before he could breathe in, and his stomach galloped with nausea.

The noise continued and Archie let out a cry of frustration. But he didn’t hear it. He felt his dry, cracked lips bear the words on his tongue but all he heard were his short gasps for breath as his mute scream pierced the eerie silence around him. Then came the sudden overwhelming feeling of agony ripping across his body. It ignited his nerve endings, making him want to claw out his hair. But his arms were tied down. He yanked at them experimentally, letting out another cry when all he felt was the backlash of tough Velcro straps yanking back like elastic. He hadn’t been in pain, though. It didn’t make sense! He had woken up feeling nauseous, a mellow feeling – the anaesthetic? Wrapping him in cotton wool. But it was there. The pain. He winced. He felt gooseflesh ripple across the back of his neck, on his arms and legs. The emotion that was flooding inside him, attacking him at every point, wasn’t his. It hit him, slashing through the mind fog that had held him hostage for God knows how long.

It wasn’t just his own feelings- his own pain running through him, the aching of his head and sickness rolling through his gut. He could sense someone else’s. At first he was in denial, and tried to block it out, but it came thick and fast- sweeping through him, enveloping him, even when he tried to fight against it.

‘ _Elizabeth Cooper._ ’ The voice came thick and fast, filtering into his head, and he heard it perfectly. There was no static. No crackling and buzzing- the constant white noise that plagued his own mind- this time the voice was clear. The voice of the nameless man, sneering Betty’s name.

‘ _Please._ ’ Her voice splintered his heart. He felt the fear that had engulfed her, gagged her so she couldn’t scream. But, no, that was the oxygen mask pressed against her face. How did he know that? Before he could question it, Archie could suddenly see it in his head. He could see people in white looming over him. Except, no. They weren’t leaning over him. A jolt of electricity rocked him as he slowly started to understand. They were leaning over Betty. He could see what she saw- what she had to go through. The Nameless man was inches from her face, as she sobbed, gasping into the plastic strapped to her face.

‘Don’t worry, child.’ The man’s grin was sickening, twisting Archie’s stomach into knots. He could suddenly smell it. The aroma of his breath that had grazed _her_ nostrils. Putrid. She had fought against a gag. It smelt like the bottom of a garbage bin.

‘ _No, I can’t- I can’t see this!’_ Archie cried. But he couldn’t cry. And when he did, it came out in the form of rushed static in his head. Betty was strapped down like him. She strained against gloved hands pushing her roughly back into the mattress.

‘ _Archie!’_ she had cried, as if they had already made the connection, as if she already knew she’d be screaming into his head. _‘Don’t let them- don’t let them do this!’_ The Nameless Man had only chuckled.

‘Archie, huh?’ His tone was teasing. ‘Is that the guy you’ve been in love with since you were a child?’ Archie felt Betty stiffen. Felt the embarrassment and humiliation darken her cheeks. But she only struggled harder, whimpering when the man advanced toward her, wearing a surgical mask, bearing a black marker. ‘No need to give me that look.’ The man’s voice is muffled until he removes the mask, revealing that same cheesy grin that turned Archie’s stomach. Betty struggles when the man presses the tip of the marker just under her bottom lash. Archie winced. He felt the cold bristles of the pen grace her eyelids, as he scraped the pen in a circular motion around her eye socket. Archie understood straight away. They were marking the eye they were going to remove. ‘I can see inside your head, Miss Cooper.’ The man’s smile widened when fear spiked in her chest, and Archie _felt_ it. He couldn’t understand it, and didn’t know how the hell it was happening, but he was _feeling_ what Betty had felt. Betty didn’t say anything. She only sobbed harder, yanking desperately at her restraints. ‘Betty, don’t cry dear.’ The man sighed. ‘You guys are like my children. I don’t want to hurt you. Plus, you’re going to be a Clairvoyant!’

‘What the hell is that?!’ She finally found her voice, and it was shrill, almost surprising Archie. Of course he ignored her.

‘So, tell me about Mr Andrews.’ The man said conversationally. Archie felt Betty’s hatred, her fury and pain. He couldn’t help her. He could only watch, helplessly. That’s what was killing him. ‘Betty.’ The man crooned. ‘Are you and Archie an item?’ He giggles a little, and Archie feels the spike of anger that struck her at that very moment. Though the man ignored her squeaks of fright, instead choosing to leer closer to her. Betty tried to pull away but gloved hands belonging to someone else held her down.

‘We’re ready to start, Luke.’ The Nameless Man had a name. It didn’t make him any less inhuman.

‘Indeed.’ He straightened up, not before tucking a straying strand of Betty’s golden hair behind her ear. ‘Figures,’ he sighed, smiling softly at her. Archie felt her urge to lunge out, to headbutt him. ‘Our first NG Clairvoyant and Telepath are lovebirds.’ Archie felt sick. The way the man had said “ours” made him want to scream. Like they were his property; like they _belonged_ to him. Betty felt the same. He felt her fear grow, the more the man spoke, the more he glanced at his watch like he was counting down. Then it was like the memory started to fade. There was a sharp pain in her arm that Archie felt in his.

‘You’re going to be amazing, Miss Cooper.’ He murmurs in her ear, just as he had done to Archie.

‘Wa- wait!’ Betty’s voice was thick as she fought the relaxants settling into her bloodstream. Archie caught a flash of the dark haired girl- Veronica- in Betty’s thoughts. Betty was mentally crying out for the girl, reaching for her. ‘Veronica!’ Betty managed to scream out before the prick in her arm, before her mind started to go fuzzy. ‘Is she okay?!’ she yelled into the mask. But the man didn’t reply, only chuckling. Betty answered with a shriek of anger, of agony. Before Archie felt himself, no Betty, fall back into the soft mattress. The last thing he saw through her hazy vision was the man holding something to her face, up close so she could just about glimpse it through fraying eyelids. His phone. Archie felt Betty’s heart jump and she might have said something- her mouth opening to cry out his name, but a sheet of darkness drowned out her cries, dragging her into an abyss inside her own head. And she couldn’t fight it. He felt her let go, and then...

Then there was nothing. Archie recoiled from the memory, and Betty’s mind successfully snapped back away from his. Along with her feelings, the pain and misery and fear that plagued her. And he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there because he was helpless too. Trapped.

The noise didn’t stop. The second he ripped away from Betty’s memory, it came back. That constant buzzing. Crackling. Prodding at him, poking at his brain, trying to get through. Archie felt tears slide down his cheeks. He couldn’t wipe them away. He couldn’t cry out, scream over the noise. All he could do was endure it and pray that his body would wake up. More crackling. Spitting. Like a fire raging in his head. Archie tried to groan, tried to scream at the noise. He sensed his lips opening, and then- and then nothing- before shutting once more. _I’ll never scream again_. He thought, panic settling in. _I’ll never cry or laugh._ But there was something else there too. He felt it, like a dormant headache present at the back of his skull. The buzzing reached a level he could barely endure. Like someone had stuck a live wire inside his brain.

‘Archie!’ Betty's voice echoed in his mind, and his first instinct was to lunge forward and grab for her, but recoiled. He didn’t want to go back inside her memory. He couldn’t watch them- hurting her. Teasing her. The noise continued to thrum at his skull. _Stop._ He tried to say, tried to mentally cry out for it all to stop. But it only got worse. His head started to throb, his stomach rolling with nausea. But the crashing, the crackling and popping of static got louder- as if it was testing him. The pain spiked suddenly. He felt it ricochet against his skull, against his brain. The noise- oh god, he couldn’t take it anymore-

 _‘Betty.’_ He thought, flinching when the noise grew louder.

_‘Please help me. Oh god, help me!’_

Just when he was about to scream, or at least try to scream, the static noise became something else entirely. Suddenly it sounded like- like a radio that was being tuned. Slowly. Words started to come through. Though however quipped and crackly it was, it was words. It was words coming through into his head. But it was still incoherent.

‘Are you awake, Mr Andrews?’ The voice slices through his thoughts, causing shivers to shoot down his spine. The Nameless man didn’t wait for any notion of an answer. ‘Young man, I suggest you open your eyes this instant.’ Archie couldn’t help it. Something snapped inside him, what he had been suppressing ever since he was thrown into this nightmare. He clenched his teeth, revelled in the feeling when they grinded together. He had some control back.

‘ _You fucking bet I’m awake, you twisted piece of shit. How dare you do this to Betty-‘_

The static- it erupted in his head the second the name popped into his mind. And then; another voice. Female. He didn’t recognize it.

‘Give it a few minutes..’ The woman murmured, causing his chest to ache. ‘He’s waking up. It’ll take a while for the connection to stabilise.’

 _‘Stabilise?’_ Archie felt his body jolt as the new voice startled him. The new feeling took him over, and he embraced it, wanting to sob. Movement. Not just gripping his bedsheets, but actual movement. He felt his body start to stir as the feeling in his arms and legs returned. But he stayed down. He felt his eyelids flicker when the woman- whoever she was- a nurse? Chuckled. The first glimpses of light started to filter in through his lashes. 

‘Okay, we’re getting his thoughts, but only just. He should come through in a second, don’t worry.’ The Nameless man chuckled. And Archie felt ice slide into his veins.

‘How long is that? Come on, Madeline, we need him for recruitment! Our first NG telepath!’ There’s a hint of fatherly pride in his tone that causes fury to prick inside him.

‘Be patient, Luke! Does the name Rowan J’Niever ring any bells?’ The man’s tone goes sour.

‘Rowan was a bad apple. We don’t talk about her. Do you understand me?’ Then, after a second, he sighs. ‘Archie is strong. He’ll be the perfect telepath. Along with Betty, Veronica and Mr Southside, these kids are going to shine.’

Telepath. The word struck him, followed by another gush of static- like once again, words were trying to claw their way into his brain. Was this telepathy? Is this what their famous ‘Stitching’ had done to him?

_Mr Southside?_

‘Correct, Mr Andrews.’ The man said. ‘Though, the sounds in your head? The radio static? Ah, Archie, that’s a whole new game to play with. Just you wait until it finally settles. As for your fourth connection, I’m afraid that’s classified.’

What? Archie felt bile at the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it, but it _hurt_. It really fucking hurt.

‘Unbelievable!’ The woman interrupted his thoughts, and he fought back an infuriating hiss in his head. ‘Luke, can you hear this? I can hear him absolutely perfectly!’ Archie stilled. His blood ran cold. He knew the man could hear him...but so could she? The woman let out an excited squeal, which chilled him to the bone.

‘Yes, yes, we can hear you! I’ve never seen anything like it! Luke, you’re amazing, he’s absolutely perfect!’ _Perfect_. Archie wanted to scream. Her words cracked through the white noise still buzzing in his consciousness. The woman seemed to adapt a professional tone, after managing to pull herself together. ‘Mr Andrews- uh, can I call you Archie? We successfully performed the Cordectomy as well as rewiring your brain so you’re now officially connected to the others.’ She seemed to be waiting for a response before carrying on. ‘We managed to replicate your voice, so don’t worry, you still have it- except it’s in your head now. We’re able to project your thoughts on this handy little device called a –‘

‘ _Stop_!’ Archie screamed. ‘ _Stop! Get out, get out of my head!_ ’ Though the woman didn’t seem fazed.

‘Are you hearing this? The connection is perfect!’ The woman’s voice went straight through him, temporarily blocking out the static, that was slowly becoming more than just white noise. He could...sense it. No, he could sense her. He could sense Betty in his head. Not just her memory, but...her. She was there in his head. But when he reached out, it was just static. It felt like a barrier had been put in place- so no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach her.

‘Come on, young man!’ The woman’s voice was sing-song. ‘Open your eyes!’

Archie felt like he had no choice. After hesitating, he slowly prised open his lids, blinking rapidly against the searing light coming from the lamp on his bedside stand. He was in what looked like a hospital room. Except the room had no feel to it. No window. No cheerful get well soon cards and dying flowers beside him. All that was there was a steel table filled with what looked like medical instruments. When he had finally blinked away the pulsing balls of light flittering across his vision, he caught sight of two figures leaning over him, both looking like proud parents. Archie blinked slowly at them, before trying to shuffle back in his restraints. Unsuccessfully. He only managed to jolt back, wincing when his head swam, accompanied by another rush of static streaming into his brain and a jarring pain across the back of his skull.

‘Mr Andrews.’ The voice chilled him, and Archie squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look the Nameless Man in the eye. Though he only chuckled. ‘Don’t be so childish. Now, me and my friend Madeline here. She’s a healer, and would like to ask you a few questions.’ Archie didn’t open his eyes.

‘ _Go away_.’ He tried to say. But his heart sank, when the words didn’t flow from his mouth, like they were supposed to. Like they always had. There was a beat of silence, before the nurse- or Madeline- sighed.

‘Maybe we did something wrong? ‘She murmured. ‘We could always cut the connection and scrap him? He doesn’t seem like he’s going to comply.’

 _Scrap him_. The words made him shiver. The Nameless man made a sound of acknowledgment.

‘It depends if he wants to see his friend again, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, the girls connected almost perfectly. Veronica had no problems once we Stitched Miss Cooper.’ Archie squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He felt his stomach swell, his throat go dry. He was going to hurl.

‘ _What kind of questions_?’ He said quickly. Or tried to say. Instead, however, once again all his lips did were pathetically form the words, before popping shut. The pain was making it hard to concentrate. If he could think coherently without the static crackling deep inside his brain, he was sure he could somehow overpower the two doctors. The woman let out a sigh of relief.

‘Now, if we can just get confirmation of a connection with Cooper and Lodge.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Andrews.' The man grunted. 'We can hear you perfectly. Now. If you could just open your eyes and turn your attention to Doctor Colin’s, that would be swell.’ The man’s voice, which was lilted with a irritation, grated his ears. He wanted to- he wanted to strangle the man. He wanted to wrap his hands around the bastards throat and-

‘That’s enough, Archie.’ The squeak of a chair moving on the linoleum caused Archie to stiffen. He could imagine it, vividly. The man reaching out and slapping him across the face. After a second he reluctantly cracked open an eyelid. His vision got progressively clearer as he forced his eyes to focus, eventually zeroing in on the nurse. She was standing beside The Nameless man. She had what looked like a pair of earphones, plugged into a small device in her hands. Was that how she was able to hear him?

The woman looked to be in her early twenties with long blonde hair held in a ponytail and pale skin. She wore a surgical mask around her neck. Archie noticed a tiny splash of red scathing the spotless white material, and his heart dropped. Archie stared at her, trying to piece together some kind of identity through his heavy eyelids and foggy thoughts. A dull pain was still pulsing in his skull, and he was finding it hard not to cry. His eyes stung with tears, but when he opened his mouth to let out a sob, there was nothing but a sharp gasp of breath flying from his dry lips. Archie struggled to focus on the woman as she leaned closer, and his head lolled.

‘ _What did you do to me?_ ’ he mouthed the words which suddenly sprung in his head, followed by another burst of static.

‘That’s better!’ the woman trilled. ‘He can speak!’ The woman adapted a sympathetic smile. Though Archie hated it. It wasn’t the smile he was used to- the sad smile his father had when he failed his math test, or when he was dumped by Valerie Brown last year. No, it was the smile of a woman who only saw him as a lab rat. She might as well have been holding a sign reading; ‘Better you than me’. ‘Oh, Archie.’ She sighed. ‘I know it hurts. But, honestly. What we’ve done is for the greater good. Both for your generation, and our species.’ Archie had trouble processing her words.

‘ _Species?_ ’ He wanted to cry out. The Nameless man chuckled.

‘All in good time, Mr Andrews. First let’s focus on getting you stabilised.’ Archie cringed when the nurse- Madeline- leaned forward. He pulled back as far as the restraints would let him.

 _‘What the fuck did you do to me?’_ He cried. The Nameless man rolled his eyes. But Madeline pursed her lips.

‘Don’t strain your mind!’ Her voice was sickly sweet- almost too kind. She studied him, her bright red lips stretched into a venomous triumphant grin. Archie only glared daggers at her. But the pain- the pain in his head. It felt like someone had stuck two metal rods into his skull and was stirring his brain round and around. The woman didn’t seem to notice his twisted grimace. ‘Now, Archie. As Luke said, my name is Doctor Madeline Colin’s. I know you’re tired and need rest, but before we can go anywhere, I need to know,’ her eyes sparkled with anticipation and Archie wanted to hit her. Hard.

‘Are there voices in your head?’ She asked, her tone practically squealing with excitement.

 _‘What?’_ He yelled back but all his mouth did was open and close.

‘Archie, there’s no need to shout. We’ve only just stitched you back up!’ She clucks her tongue, reaching out a pale hand and brushing it across his face. ‘We don’t want your throat to pop open, do we?’ Archie cringed again, trying to bolt backwards. She just laughed lightly at his reaction, snatching her hand back. The Nameless man sighed.

‘We should have made him the Telekinetic.’ He mumbled. ‘Just look how compulsive he is!’

‘Now now, Luke,’ The nurse’s voice is sing-song. ‘We already have our sights set on our Telekinetic. I’m sure Miss Cooper has already had chance to try out her ability.’ Betty. Archie gritted his teeth, yanking at the restraints.

‘What did you do to her?’ He hissed. But a part of him, the curious side of his brain, started to wonder. Who was the Telekinetic going to be? The Nameless man’s last words hit him once again. _‘So, who is this Kevin Keller?’_

‘You bastards _!_ ’ He mouthed. ‘You’re never going to get away with this!’ Madeline only smiled, shaking her head.

‘No, sweetheart. Speak in your head.’ Archie felt a rush of rebellion fill him. Never. He was never going to stop fucking talking. Even if they had taken his voice. A hiss of static in his head caught him off guard, and he bit into his lower lip against a muted cry of pain. Madeline however, noticed, looking intrigued. ‘Archie, dear, I know it can be confusing at first. But can you hear the girls?’

 _‘No.’_ Archie growled. But could he? Was that what the static was? It hurt him that he could no longer speak. But it felt...right. He glared at the woman. ‘ _What the fuck are you talking about?_ ’ He hissed. He loved the way it felt, the way his lips curled and twisted, forming words. But when they didn’t hit the sound barrier like they were supposed to, when they didn’t cry out into the woman’s face- his voice. His furious yell, his heart sunk. But he already had an idea what the crazy bitch meant. She wanted to know if he could hear them...Betty and Veronica.

‘Yes!’ The nurse responded to his thoughts, and he felt a shiver slide its way down his spine. ‘Are they clear, honey?’ Archie glared ruefully at her. But the nurse just chuckled/.

‘Now, Archie. Here’s a Story time. The other girl who you met. Hiram Lodge’s daughter? She was our first successful test with the telepathic connection,’ she smiles wistfully. ‘But because there was nobody else connected to her, the static, the noise that you’re hearing now? It nearly drove her mad.’

‘ _What?_ ’ Archie felt like a goldfish. The woman cocked her head, a small smile spreading across her lips, as if he was a toddler who had just said a bad word.

‘What I’m trying to say, Archie. Is that Betty and Veronica need a third and fourth connection. If not, the static will drive them crazy.’ Her smile widens. ‘I’m sure you’d love to be rid of it.’ Archie didn’t respond. But for a second, he mentally tried to reach out for the girls. All he got was another rush of static. Madeline continued.

‘I guess what I’m trying to say, is that the more people connected, the stronger the signal. The stronger your powers. Now, I’ll ask you again.’ The woman seemed to be slowly losing her patience with him.

 _‘Good_.’ Archie thought. He clenched his fists, waiting for the woman to ask him again, but the Nameless Man cleared his throat.

‘That’s enough, Doctor Colin’s.’ He frowned at her, his eyebrows furrowing for a second in irritation. ‘Leave him for a few hours, and see if the connection comes through. In the meantime...am I right to think you have work to do?’ Doctor Colin’s looked as if she might argue. She definitely wanted to stay longer and play with her new toy. But she nodded and smiled.

‘Of course.’ She smiled at Archie. ‘I do hope you pull through,’ she sighed a little, reaching out again to gently brush the tangled strands of hair from Archie’s eyes. ‘You’re such a handsome boy.’ Archie didn’t move. He didn’t think he could. He could only pull back, away from her. Away from her icy touch.

‘ _Get your fucking hands off me.’_ He growled, in his head. She still had an earphone plugged into her ear, so she could hear him. Madeline seemed to startle, looking back at him, her eyes narrowing. He didn’t smile. Because there was nothing to smile about. But he did scowl at her _. ‘Are you happy now? I’m talking in my head,’_ he said simply. But the woman didn’t respond. She yanked her earphone out like it had burnt her. Madeline left, and Archie was left with The Nameless man. Or Luke- as the nurse had called him. Once it was silent again, and there was nothing to distract him, the buzzing started once more. Louder and more infuriating than ever. Archie bit back a cry which wouldn’t be heard. The man took a seat on one of the plastic chairs at his bedside.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Andrews. I’m sure the girls will come through within the new few hours.’

 _‘You sick fucker.’_ Archie hissed, in his head. Though the man only chuckled, leaning forward. So close the stench of his breath made Archie’s stomach turn.

‘Go on, Archie,’ his lip curled into a smirk, eyes sparkling. ‘Call me something.’ He taunted. ‘Be as colourful as you’d like.’ The insults were on his tongue, dripping off like sour milk. But all Archie managed was a few pathetic gasps for breath. His throat hurt with every attempt. The man looked amused ‘You can do better than that!’

 _‘Go to hell.’_ He was going to start crying again. He knew it. His eyes were stinging again, and with the dull pain still thrumming against his skull, and the incessant buzzing in his head, he couldn’t take it anymore. He let the tears trail down his cheeks, but found he couldn’t physically sob. His chest and tightened like it should, but then- there was nothing. His mouth opened, as if to cry, but there was no strangled cry that had been building up in his throat. There was just silence.

‘Oh, don’t be such a baby.’ The man rolled his eyes. ‘Anyway.’ He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘I’ll leave you to rest.’ Archie felt himself slump back into the sea of pillows, and didn’t bother pulling at his restraints. The man made his way over to the door. ‘Oh, and Mr Andrews?’ Archie didn’t bother looking up. He simply closed his eyes and mentally begged the man to leave. For the buzzing to stop. Hopefully they _had_ screwed up with the connection and _would_ scrap him, because he didn’t think he could live like this. A mute science experiment mutant gone wrong. ‘I do hope you’ll be well rested tomorrow. I’d like to take you with me on a recruitment mission.’ Archie felt himself stiffen.

_‘Recruitment mission?’_

‘That’s right.’ The door clattered shut, but the man was still inside his head. ‘His name is Jughead Jones, and he...is going to be your fourth link. You kids are going to help me recruit this..’ the man lets out a happy sigh. ‘This gifted writer.’ Archie felt like screaming. He wanted to scream and screech until his throat was raw. The man already had another victim. Another boy was going to be dragged from his life and- and turned into a monster. The man didn’t respond but Archie swore he heard his laughter echoing down the hallway. When he was sure the man was out of his head, Archie settled down into the bumpy mattress, giving a half-hearted tug at the straps holding him down. Nothing. He felt like crying, but what would that do?

The buzzing. It seemed to be streaming inside his head with no mercy. Archie lost track of time as he fell in and out of slumber, trying to block out the sudden whines and screeches coming through, once again like a screeching radio. Though soon enough, when he was sure he was about to chew his way through his restraints and physically plunge his fist into his skull and yank out his brain to stop the noise, it changed. The buzzing stopped for a second before resuming, but faltering. When Archie didn’t think it could get any worse, a slash of pain rocked his skull. It was the kind of pain that was hard to deal with. The kind of pain that drove you crazy. Archie tried to sob, tried to cry and scream for it to stop. But he only heard his voice inside his head, rattling with static.

 _‘Stop.’_ He tossed and turned, yanking desperately at his bonds. ‘ _Please stop! Just...just stop!’_

 _‘Archie?’_ Her voice startled him. He gasped out a breath, springing up, his eyes fluttering open.

‘ _Betty?’_ he looked wildly around the room, expecting the girl to be standing by his bedside. But his room was empty. The buzzing had stopped.

‘ _Archie!’_ Betty cried. She sounded like she was sobbing. _‘Oh god, I didn’t – I didn’t think it would work! Archie, I’m so sorry- I’m so sorry what for what they did to you.’_ Archie closed his eyes, his lips slowly stretching into the smallest of smiles. The pain was still thrumming against his skull but the buzzing had stopped- the connection had finally balanced between them. He took a breath, as if ready to speak with his mouth, but then realized he couldn’t. He wanted to say so much. How much pain he was in, how much he wanted and _needed_ to with her. But instead something else popped into his head.

‘ _Betty, they’re going to take someone else.’_ He spoke clearly inside his head, and realized how easy it was. His voice vibrated against his skull.

 _‘I know.’_ She hesitated, her words crackling. ‘ _I saw him, Archie. I’m- oh god, I can’t explain it. I saw him.’_

 _‘You saw him?’_ Archie tensed.

‘ _Something like that...’_ Betty replied. Then after a beat of silence, Betty let out a shaky sigh which rattled his thoughts. ‘ _Did they really do it?’_ She whispers, her voice cracking. ‘ _Did they take your voice?’_ Archie didn’t reply. He couldn’t say it. Because that was confirming it. That his voice was well and truly gone. He knew Betty was there, that she’d always _be_ there in his head listening, as long as he felt that _buzz_ which accompanied her voice. But she wasn’t speaking, and he didn’t blame her. After a while, he figured she was asleep, and turned in bed, burying his head in his pillows. He did his best to curl up, bringing his knees to his chest. But his arms felt awkward, still strapped firmly down. He realized after tossing and turning for a while, he wasn’t going to sleep. But just as he was on the edge of slumber, the place between consciousness and sleep, he felt it. A second buzz. This time loud and infuriating. It sprang him out of his stupor and he managed a groggy;

‘ _Betty?’_ The words crackled in his mind.

‘ _It’s my fault.’_ The voice came fast, like a rush. And Archie felt another slice of pain riding across the back of his skull. He felt it- the second link bridging its way into his head- rooting itself inside his brain. ‘ _I’m so sorry!’_ The voice- he recognized it. It was Veronica. The girl who had nearly popped his brain like a grapefruit with her shattering screech. For a second, a familiar feeling hit him. He was seeing, no hearing...voices. Memories. His breathing hitched. Veronica’s memories. They flickered in his mind for a second. Just a preview of what was to come.

‘ _Who the hell are you?’_

 _‘Miss Lodge, I wrote your father hundreds of letters asking him politely for your engagement in my cause, except he never answered-’_ But, before he knew it, before he could grasp an image of a piece of coherent memory, she managed to kick him out. He felt her presence snatch back her own mind from his, as if he had plunged in intentionally.

‘ _It’s my fault....It’s my fault...’_ Veronica continued to wail inside his head. But she didn’t sound- human. Her cry seemed more piercing, more unnatural than ever. ‘ _He..he made me do it. I’m so...I’m so sorry! ‘Please forgive me...’_ she cried _._ Archie winced when she screeched into his head. It was an unearthly wail.

‘ _It’s okay!’ he attempted to shout back. ‘It’s not your fault, Veronica.’_

_‘No, it is! It’s- it’s my fault- oh god, I’m the reason why you and Betty are here- I’m- I’m so sorry-‘ she sounded hysterical now, and continued to wail. It streamed into his brain, loud and painful so he couldn’t block it out. ‘I’m sorry!’ Veronica didn’t stop. It was like she couldn’t hear him. Archie had no choice but to listen to her as she cried into his head. She never stopped, never faltered. And finally, it progressed into her banshee cry, which shattered his thoughts._

‘ _Veronica!’_ He could hear Betty crying over the girl’s screech. ‘ _Veronica, stop!’_ But the girl didn’t stop. She continued to wail, and screech into Archie and Betty’s heads. And eventually, when neither of them could take it anymore, they joined in. Which became an agonizing cacophony of screams bouncing between three minds.

-


	4. Where Is My Mind?

* * *

It was like resurfacing from the depths of a bad dream, one he had never imagined could possibly form inside his mind. The numbness clags over his skin like heavy washcloths trapping the sweat and dread beneath them, trapping his senses in a haze of confusion. He felt hot, as though he’d been trapped inside a car on the hottest day of the year, and not even panting released the humidity inside his lungs. He wanted to scratch as his skin, rive it off until there was nothing left.

 _Yellow Submarine_ still stuck to his consciousness. Its melodic tones twisting with Veronica’s banshee cry, and Archie and Betty’s helpless screams. Jughead couldn’t get away from it. It all strung together in his head, becoming incoherent white noise.

He had seen everything. Archie’s memory had been a gateway – a sneak peek – into the horrifying world that was Stitching. Jughead had seen Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper’s lives snatched from under them, as they were dragged into a nightmare they couldn’t escape. He had felt their pain, their terror as they had been turned into mutant science experiments against their will.

Archie losing his voice, as they had surgically removed it, strapping him down so he couldn’t scream or cry out for help. The static that had attacked his mind as they had telepathically connected him to Betty and Veronica. Then, before he had known it, he was no longer Archie Andrews, aspiring singer. He was a prisoner of an unknown company, with no known purpose, except from performing life altering surgery on suspecting teen lives, and recruiting them. He was Archie Andrews: newly Stitched _NG_.

_Whatever that meant._

Then there was Betty. Blind Betty. The girl with the eyepatch, the girl with no sight. Though Jughead had seen her past. How beautiful she had been. There was a still-image of her, still stuck in his mind. Elizabeth Cooper and Archie Andrews. Two teenagers having grown up together. Archie on the stage, singing his heart out to a crowd of people who cared about him- a father who loved him. A father who was probably going out of his mind looking for him. And Elizabeth Cooper. Archie had had one memory of her, before her Stitching. And Jughead had held onto it. It was of Betty. In her baby pink dress, curled up next to Veronica, when they had first been taken. Her hair had been in rattails, her eyes swollen red and glistening with tears. But there was no eyepatch. Because a pair of bright blue eyes stared back.

Except Betty wasn’t that girl anymore. She was a Clairvoyant, after having her sight ripped from her. And the two of them joined Veronica Lodge- the Banshee. The girl whose ear piercing screech still rang out, loud and clear, in Jughead’s mind.

He still didn’t know much about Veronica’s origins. Only a glimpse, though Archie struggling to control his powers. Though he had seen her, through Archie’s eyes, as she had nearly split his head open with her freakish, inhuman screech.

 _‘His name is Jughead Jones.’_ Jughead heard the Doctor’s voice playing over and over again in his head. The realization had hit him like a thunderous wave of icy water. Even if he knew it at the back of his head. Even if Betty Cooper had hinted at it. He hadn’t been taken by accident. Not because he had witnessed Archie and the others in the van.

No, he had been hunted down- like them. Like Archie being cornered in the parking lot of his High School. Jughead’s name already filled the blank space next to their next potential Telekinetic.

_‘Gifted writer...’_ The man had murmured in Archie’s head. Jughead wanted to cry. Though he was pretty sure he was doing just that. Screaming even. But he couldn't stop. The man’s words wouldn't stop playing like a stuck record, bouncing against his skull, like an erratic pinball machine.

‘ _Jughead?’_ Archie’s voice lit up his foggy thoughts, and it made him want to throw up. His stomach rolled, his chest tightened, and he fought to block out the red-head’s voice. But Archie was persistent.

‘ _Jughead, you have to stop screaming.’_ His voice was shaking as it rattled against Jughead’s skull. Though the boy’s voice was sensitive to Jughead’s ears. He felt his lips pry open in another sob.

 ** _‘Get out of my head!’_** He cried out.

Archie retracted instantly. It wasn’t that he was scared of the boy, or any of them. It was that he could still hear their screams, their agonizing cries for help. Because they no longer felt human- felt normal. No matter how hard Archie had tried to soften the blow, which was his own pain coursing through Jughead, it still fucking hurt. It still made Jughead want to claw at his hair. Jughead knew he was back- back in reality, back where he was unceremoniously curled into a ball, silently screaming into the floor. But he felt numb. Because after Archie’s pain had filtered through him, leaving him a trembling wreck, he could no longer feel himself. He felt...he felt like Archie had, post Stitching. He felt like he couldn’t open his eyes, that _he_ was the one drowning in icy water as it weighed down on his chest, pulling him further and further down…

‘No!’ he screamed into the dark. He wouldn’t wake up in that white room, with the sadistic doctors looming over him. He wouldn’t. He would get out before they had chance to- the word made him feel physically sick. He knew exactly what it was now. It was kidnapping kids against their will, and surgically removing a part of them that made them human, that made them special. And replacing it with some fucked up ability which defied everything he thought he knew about the human race. And they wouldn’t do it to him. They wouldn’t...

They _wouldn’t!_

‘Jughead.’ Another voice seeped through the barrier he had put up in his head. It wasn’t Archie. Though he still felt the boy’s presence, haunting his thoughts. As if Archie was trying to protect him. The voice managed to pierce its way back into his consciousness, battering his mind with sounds which he had blocked out with his own cry. Veronica Lodge. Her voice was quick to drag him from his own mind, back into the van- back to hell. The deafening feeling plugging his ears began to fade, making way for hushed voices. Making way for the nauseating movement of the van, as it lurched forward, occasionally rattling over bumps in the road. The sound of the engines was almost calming. Relaxing.

‘Try and relax, okay?’ Veronica was murmuring. ‘Breathe, Jughead. Breathe.’ Except her voice, for just a flicker of a second, sounded like someone else’s entirely.

He could feel her cradling him like he was a child. Though that’s exactly what he was at that moment. Hs body rocked with tremors as he felt her arms around him, clutching him, as if she was physically trying to yank him from his stupor. But he was relentless in staying in his little bubble, staying in his own thoughts where he could screech and cry, echoing those of Archie, Betty and her own cry. The cries of the kid’s he sensed crowding around him, like he was some kind of circus act. They were wary, he realized. Because even if he couldn’t hear it, he knew he was screaming. He could physically feel the terrified cry ripping from his lips, searing the silence, piercing through Veronica’s hushed whispering as she held him tighter.

‘Is he okay?’ Betty’s voice. He knew she was close. He could smell her breath in his face, her straggly hair tickling his forehead. He sensed her leaning over him. Veronica’s response was quick. Her tone soft.

‘Give him a second, Betty.’ Jughead felt his bound wrists once more, as the feeling began to flow back into him. The sting of the fraying ropes chafing against his skin. He hadn’t realized he’d been screaming, until he felt his whole body jolt, like the ground below had begun to shake. Then he felt his own shaking form as he leant against something soft- something safe. Once his senses cleared, he was able to taste the salty tears on his lips, smell the overwhelming aroma of body odour seeping into his nostrils. But the smell was tainted with something. Perfume. Though it was stale, like it had been clinging to unwashed skin for weeks. Veronica’s voice was soft, yet firm. Digging into his consciousness and settling into his brain.

‘You have to snap out of it!’ Veronica whispered, a little too harshly. Then, Archie’s voice in his head, striking his thoughts like electricity.

_‘Don’t speak to him like that!’_

‘I’m trying! He won’t-‘ her voice hitched, as if she was going to start sobbing herself. ‘He won’t stop screaming!’ He was screaming? Jughead managed to catch a hold of himself, and fought against the cry ripping from his raw throat. But he couldn’t control it. It was like the screaming from Archie’s memory still echoed from his own lips. Like he was replicating it. He tugged at his restraints violently, but Veronica made _Shh_ -ing noises. He felt her hand stroking up and down his back, her fingernails scathing the rough material of his work t-shirt. He was still crying. Sobbing against the girl’s chest. He couldn’t physically stop, as if the trauma that Archie had gone through was badly affecting him too- twisting his gut, weighing down on his chest so he had no choice but to gasp for breath between sobs.

‘What do I do?’ Veronica whispered. ‘He...he won’t stop!’

‘ _Just talk to him!’_ Archie instructed. ‘ _He’s scared, Veronica.’_ The girl let out a half-hearted laugh, and Jughead felt her chest shake.

‘Oh really? Wow, I never would have noticed!’

‘ _Just do it!’_ Archie hissed. ‘ _Do you want to get caught?’_

‘With what? We haven’t done anything! All you did was traumatise the new kid!’

‘Ronnie!’ Betty jumped in, her tone wary and frightened. She was hissing at the other two, as if chastising two children for bad behaviour. _‘Just do what Archie’s saying.’_ Her tone softened. _‘Talk to him.’_ Veronica seemed to listen to the blonde, and sighed. He felt her arms wrap tighter around him- almost _too_ tight.

‘I..’ her voice broke a little. ‘I don’t know what to say?’ But suddenly, as if a switch had been pulled, her tone changed, from almost hysterical herself, to a calm, soothing murmur. ‘Oh, Juggie,’ she murmured softly. Her palm still gently rubbing his back in circular motions. ‘It’s over, okay? You’re here with us, now.’ Something jolted inside him, at that second, and a straying thought hit him.

 _Wrong_. It whispered into his consciousness.

_Something’s-_

Though the thought was gone in a flash, before Jughead could grasp and made sense of it. Instead, a memory slithered inside his head. Veronica had used a nickname he hadn’t been called since kindergarten. Since his mom had held his hand on the first day, ready to skip down the steps with him, leading him into his very first adventure. This time it wasn’t Archie’s memory. It was his own. His five year old self standing at the top of concrete steps, grasping his mother’s hand as he stared down at a group of children- a blur of different coloured clothes, running around his new classroom.

_‘Ready Juggie?’ His mom had giggled, handing him his Pokémon backpack. He had nodded, a grin spreading across his face. All those first-day fears dispersing in his gut, making way for that rush of excitement every kid had on their first day of Kindergarten._

‘Mom..’ he wanted to cry out for her. Did she know he was missing? Would his father even look for him, or was he lying in his own pool of vomit, too out of it to even care where he was?

‘ _Jug.’_ Archie’s voice was once again filtering into his brain. But this time he didn't block it out. _‘We’re not going to let them do it to you, do you understand me?’_ The boy’s voice splintered into senseless static, but he seemed to catch a hold of himself, before speaking once more, his voice once again riddled by that same screeching which had overwhelmed his memory. Except Jughead knew what the static was now. He knew it was constantly there, haunting the three teens, until a fourth connection was made. Until he, the chosen Telekinetic, was Stitched.

_‘We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?’_ Archie said softly. Except it felt...wrong. Like the boy’s words weren't natural, as if fragments of broken conversation he’d had in the past had been poorly stitched back together to create the voice slamming into Jughead’s mind.

 _Wrong._ The thought struck again. Though he couldn’t make sense of it. This time it wasn’t Archie- it sounded more like...it sounded like his _own_ voice, hanging over his thoughts, as if taunting him- or warning him.

‘Archie’s right.’ Veronica’s voice caused him to startle. ‘We’re getting you out of here.’ He could feel her fingers stroking through his hair, the tips gently brushing across his forehead, like the woman- the nurse, in Archie’s memory. Madeline. Jughead pictured her scarlet smile, her shark like grin as she had leered at Archie, touching him- teasing him. Jughead felt himself jolt at Veronica’s touch, and he tipped backwards, unable to steer himself with his bound wrists. Luckily, hands were already grasping for him, yanking him back up, giving him no choice but to open his eyes.

When he did manage to prise them open, he found himself leaning by his back against the far walls of the van, his arms still bound behind his back. He could taste stale tears on his lips which stained his cheeks. Everything was a blur at first, but eventually his vision cleared, and he was able to focus on three figures sitting in front of him. Archie, Betty and Veronica. They didn’t bother speaking at first, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and relief. Eventually, Veronica cleared her throat and leaned forward, her lip curling into a small reassuring smile.

‘Jug,’ she said softly, her dark eyes were sincere. ‘You’re not going to be Stitched, okay?’ her voice sounded like it was miles away, tickling at his consciousness.

 _Wrong._ The voice was back. Clearer. Though Jughead felt like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t roll it round in his thoughts and stop to think about it. Something was whispering to him. Louder and louder, yet he couldn’t reach it.

 _‘Jughead, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I didn’t realize it would-‘_ Archie trailed off.

‘Scar me for life?’ Jughead thought bitterly. Knowing the red-head could hear him loud and clear. Though the saltiness didn’t last.

‘I needed to know anyway.’ He said shakily. It was the first thing he had said since waking up, and his voice was cracked. Almost a shrill hiss. Archie leaned forward and he couldn’t help shuffling away slightly.

 _‘Jughead.’_ The red-head murmured in his head. His voice was so gentle, sidling into his brain and lighting up his thoughts. The boy stared at him, brown eyes boring into his, a small smile edging on his lips. _‘It’s not going to happen to you.’_ He said softly. Jughead felt tears spring to his eyes he had to swallow the overwhelming urge to break. To break down and sob into the redhead’s arms. The word ‘Promise?’ was suddenly on his tongue, but he shook his head and nodded. ‘ _I promise.’_ Archie muttered into his head. Before he knew it, a strong pair of arms were gently snaking around his neck, and Archie had his head burrowed into his shoulder. Jughead froze in the embrace for a second, part of him telling him to pull away. But Archie’s arms squeezed him against his chest as if the boy was refusing to let go- refusing to break his promise. Jughead let himself cry- let his tears stain Archie’s shirt.

 _‘Wrong...’_ There it was again. The voice seemed to cling to Jughead’s consciousness, refusing to fade. Though he didn’t listen to it, only clinging tighter onto the red-head.

After a few seconds, the girls joined the hug, Betty wrapping her arms them both, with Veronica throwing her arms around the blonde, pressing the four of them into a warm embrace, a cocoon of safety that was, at that moment, unbreakable. Just for a second, Jughead didn’t feel scared anymore. He had never felt closer to anyone in his life, even if he had known these kids for little more than a day. A growing sense of dread was building inside of him, a mental argument with himself. He wanted to get away, escape the psycho scientist hell bent on dragging him into a world he didn’t understand. But how could he leave them? He felt their arms around him, entwined limbs grasping for his. It was almost like... the four of them were already connected.

‘ _Now you’re getting it!’_ that voice- it seeped back into his head. Suddenly no longer faded and hard to understand. It was loud and invasive, suddenly stabbing into his thoughts. _No._ Jughead sprang away from the embrace, and felt himself once again tip backwards. He slammed into the metal flooring, whacking his tail bone. But he barely felt anything.

 _‘Jug?’_ Archie stared at him through half lidded eyes, Betty and Veronica also breaking apart to frown at him. Jughead ducked his head to avoid looking at the three of them.

‘It’s nothing.’ He started to say. He was going to say more, going to try and explain the new voice in his head which was starting to freak him out. But before he could manage to even get out an incoherent mutter that he was in fact okay, when he really wasn’t. The familiar sound of the shutters scaling upwards sliced into his thoughts, and Archie’s eyes seemed to pop open, almost cartoon like. At that moment, Jughead could only think, ‘don’t let them take me’ before he was being tugged violently by his hair, sweaty arms wrapping themselves around him and yanking him backwards.

Before he knew it, he was hitting the concrete tarmac face-first and his nose was gushing scarlet. But adrenaline rushed through him as he felt the cool night air grace against his muggy skin. The man had a tight hold of him, but he lashed out with everything he had, managing to dig both of his elbows into his assailant's chest. The man let out a grunt and staggered back, and he saw his chance. He blindly ran at the van, but he hit the closed shutters, fists first. ‘No!’ he cried, pounding on them. He couldn’t get to them. But he was...he was free! Jughead felt blood trickling down his face, his head was pounding, but he was able to catch a hold of himself. ‘I’ll- I’ll get help!’ he yelled at the shutters. There was no reply, and strangely...the man was nowhere to be seen. He saw his chance and after grabbing his surroundings. He was on a long dirt road. ‘Archie, I’ll get help!’ he yelled, but once again, there was no response. He took a few laboured breaths, sucking in the sweet night air, and broke into a wobbly run.

Eventually he came to a stop on the side of the gravel road, fog drifting by his feet. His chest heaved as he spluttered, blood dripping from his nose. His hands were still bound behind his back and no amount of heaving pulled them apart. He looked up ahead of him, well aware that needed help. Who knows how close the man was to catching up. He whipped his head back, just to check. Just to see if he was following. But a cocktail of dread and confusion filled him when he found himself staring at a familiar stretch of road. He blinked, stumbling to a stop, when it hit him. He knew this place. He knew it because he walked it almost everyday on the way back from work and school.

Jughead let out a startled breath, which turned into a shaky, almost hysterical laugh. The cool night air bathed his blistering skin and he found himself revelling it, revelling in the fact that he wasn't being chased, that he was free. And...he took a few staggering steps forwards, his converse scraping on the battered concrete. He was home. There was no doubt about it.

‘Dad.’ Jughead didn’t realize he was saying it, until a rush of adrenaline hit him, causing his aching legs to kick-start. He said it again as he tripped over straying rocks lying on the side of the road, paving towards the trailer park he had grown up in. Jughead was sobbing now, in relief and pain, as he continued to yank at his restraints, but no matter how hard he tried, the ropes wouldn’t budge. It felt like they were sticking to his skin, had been surgically matted to his flesh. ‘Dad!’ he stumbled, nearly falling on his face once again. The trailer park was deathly quiet. Neighbours that were usually up at all hours next to blazing fires were nowhere to be found.

Jughead reached his father's trailer, struggling to climb up the steps on shaky legs. He found the only vocabulary on his tongue was a cry for his dad. He sobbed for his father, pressing his forehead against the door. He needed help. He needed his father more than ever. Even when he had spent most of his life caring for himself, right then, at his most vulnerable, Jughead just wanted his dad. He managed to get the door open by repeatedly slamming his aching body into it, before the plastic door slid open slowly with that familiar oily screech that he was used to. Jughead bounded in quickly, staggering into the tiny kitchen, still how he left it. Untidy. Dirty dishes were still piled on the counter and overflowing in the sink, empty beer bottles littering the floor.

Like outside, his father’s trailer had an eerie , empty feel to it. Normally, FP Jones would be passed out on the couch watching some black and white rom-com, surrounded by takeaway containers and cans of beer. But there was no sign of his father.

‘Dad?’ Jughead felt a shiver crawl up his spine as he checked and re-checked all the rooms in the trailer. The kitchen was empty, living room deserted, even the bathroom- where he would sometimes find FP passed out on the toilet, was desolate. Though Jughead noticed the faucet was on, still spewing water. He reached out and twisted the steel tap so the water shut off, and then he was pulling his hand back in shock, when he realized he was no longer tied up. His arms were by free. When he lifted them experimentally, there were no rope burns chafing his skin, or any sign his wrists had been mercilessly bound for god knows how long. But he still felt like they were. Like his arms were _still_ behind his back, still bound, still useless and numb. He still felt the stinging sensation of the ropes, but there were no ropes. His wrists were like they always had been, before he was taken.

 _You’re dreaming_. He realized. That’s why everything was so quiet, so out of place. He wandered over to the mirror in the bathroom and stared into it, waiting for his reflection to falter- to twist his expression like a fun mirror. Except it didn’t. Jughead found himself staring at someone he barely recognized. It was a kid, standing there with bloodshot eyes, pale sickly skin. His hair was a greasy mess, sticking to his forehead, his signature crown beanie nowhere to be seen. No, it couldn’t be a dream. Because this is what he looked like. There was no startling change in perception. He was just staring at himself- a pathetic kid.

‘Juggie.’ The voice startled him, finally cracking open a seal in the silence that had enveloped him, pulling him back to reality. He twisted around, his gaze hyper vigilant as it scanned for the owner of the voice. He knew it. At least...he knew it in his head. Except when he turned around, there was nobody there. He was staring at the battered bathroom door, peeling paint and unwashed wood. There was a beat of silence, before an unmistakable chuckle, followed by that same voice, the voice that had dragged him into all of this. Belonging to a sad-eyed red haired teen, whose voice had been ripped from him. ‘Jugheaaaaadddd,’ it was teasing, taunting, dragging out his name like it was a nursery rhyme.

Jughead felt his knees weaken, his chest tighten. It couldn’t be Archie. He turned his head again, his heart stampeding. He still felt his arms, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t move them. They felt like dead weight, uselessly dangling by his sides. 

‘Archie?!’ he hissed, his lips curling. He cried out at nothing, at thin air as the voice continued to taunt him inside his head.

‘C’mon, Jughead,’ the voice murmured. ‘Surely, you’re not as dumb as the others.’ When he twisted his head once again, he recoiled, hissing out a breath and stumbling back. At the same time, a bottle of shampoo that had been balancing on the edge of the marble bath, exploded. Jughead jumped when pink frothy liquid burst from the bottle and hit the ceiling, decorating it with bright pink goo. He stared at bottle for a second, still sitting immobile on the edge of the bath. Though it didn’t move. He blinked, peeking through fraying lids, and felt his chest tighten, when the bottle was back in its original place. He tipped his head back, only to find the ceiling was no longer splattered with hair product.

‘I’m...’ Jughead felt his breath quicken. ‘I’m going insane.’ He tried to drag a hand through his hair, a habit which always calmed him. But found he couldn’t. His arms were still useless. No matter what he did, he couldn’t move them.

‘See, Jughead! That’s what you’ll be able to do!’ It was almost as startling as the first words he’d heard from the boy, except those words had landed in his head.

 _‘You have to help us!’_ Jughead remembered how scared the red-head had sounded, how helpless and terrified he had been.

_‘ I don’t have much time, they’re going to come looking for me, oh god, I’m so weak. I can barely do this. You need to listen to me. The girls. My friends. They’re-‘_

Jughead felt his stomach cartwheel as the new voice registered in his head. But not just his head. It didn’t just settle into his thoughts like it was supposed to do, which was the new norm with the red-headed boy. No, it spoke. Out loud. From lips which were surely stretched into a smile. But that was impossible. He’d lost his voice. Jughead had seen it being taken from him, felt his pain and anger and resentment. But the voice was real. It wasn’t in his head, and it was 100% Archie Andrews.

‘Isn’t Telekinesis fun?’ Archie’s voice was different. It wasn’t the solemn murmur attaching itself to Jughead’s thoughts, it wasn’t the boy’s melancholic drawl of Yellow Submarine. No, it was speech. Real, honest to god, speech. Jughead turned slowly . Words were on his lips, but this time he was the mute one. The one with no voice, with choked up words in his throat that he couldn’t push out. He found himself staring at Archie Andrews, who had seemingly popped out of nowhere and was standing by the door. The boy was leaning against the old paintwork with his arms folded, a small smile on his lips. When Jughead finally caught his eye, his smile curled into a grin.

Archie looked...different. He was still wearing the filthy clothes he had been in, but his skin had more colour to it, no longer looking pale and malnourished. His red-hair was still a scruffy mess, strands of it sticking to his forehead. There was something about his eyes too. They were still deep brown, like they had always been. But there was a glimmer of light in them, a perkiness Jughead had never seen cross the boy’s face.

‘Hey, Jug.’ Archie’s expression was lit up playfully, and he giggled a little, spreading his arms out. ‘So, this is where you live, huh?’ his eyes twinkled and he came away from the door, leaning forward, cocking his eyebrows. ‘Where’s Daddy Jones?’ Jughead struggled to find his voice.

‘You’re speaking.’ He said softly. Except it came out broken and childish. He took a step backwards, well aware that he was trembling. He gritted his teeth when a bolt of pain zipped across his skull. But nothing was there to _cause_ the pain. But he felt it- deeply embedded inside his head. A dull throb prodding against his brain. Archie smirked suggestively, his gaze never leaving Jughead’s.

‘Now that’s new, isn’t it?’ Jughead narrowed his eyes, ignoring the red-head.

‘How are you speaking?’ he said softly. Though his tone was borderline hysterical. He took another shaky step backwards, but he couldn’t stop staring at the boy. There was something he...liked? in the sudden change in the red-head’s personality. Archie was in his trailer in the Southside of Riverdale. Archie was from the rich side, the privileged side. But right then, standing there with a cocky smirk stuck to his lips, Archie looked like he belonged. He looked like...

Jughead blinked, recoiling. Archie was suddenly wearing a battered leather jacket underneath a bleached white shirt bearing the entwined snakes on the back. He was chewing gum lazily, never losing that grin. ‘You like?’ the boy murmured.

Jughead _did_ like it But he shook his head slowly, curling his lip.

Archie rolled his eyes, grinning a little. ‘Is that a blush I detect?’ he chuckled. ‘Jughead, do you have a little crush on me?’

‘Stop it.’ Jughead growled. Though, yes, his cheeks had flushed. He swiped at them angrily, as if _that_ would help.

Archie chuckled, and moved closed to Jughead. Suddenly the boy was much too close, and Jughead could feel his breath on his face. Though he couldn’t move. Archie’s eyes seemed to twinkle, as if he was enjoying every second of his clear discomfort.

‘Oh, Jughead Jones, you are a fool.’ He murmured, the grin never leaving his lips. It looked out of place on Archie. Jughead was so used to warm brown eyes and a sad, sympathetic smile.

Archie grinned, acknowledging his thoughts. 

'Archie Andrews is eye-candy. Mr Jones, I'm not just building a new species made from your generation, I'm starting a brand. I call it Hot kids with supernatural abilities. What do you think?’ his lip curls into a smile. ‘I could use you- you are an exceptionally attractive boy.'

Jughead could do nothing but stare. It had been obvious that it wasn’t Archie- ever since he had appeared out of nowhere, with that uneasy shark grin. But the words popping from the red-head’s mouth would almost be amusing if it wasn’t for his current predicament. Archie chuckled. ‘I don’t just pick my NG’s on their talent. Of course I choose them on their looks too. And you’d rather listen to my sob story through Mr Varsity, am I correct?’

‘What...?’ Jughead managed. But Archie cut him off with a dramatic sigh.

‘Jughead, you’re a smart boy.’ He murmured. ‘How about you try and piece it together in that wonderful brain of yours?’

When Jughead didn’t respond, the words once again stuck in his throat, Archie continued. ‘You see,’ he plonked himself down on the edge of the bath and folded his arms. ‘I want to tell you my..’ He trails off, cocking his head. ‘Motives.’ He continues, fixing Jughead with a smirk. ‘I wasn’t always a sadistic bastard.’ He curls his lip. ‘Stitching originally had good intentions.’ He laughs a little. ‘Well! It still does!’

Jughead felt sick. It was The Man- or Luke, as Archie had come to know him as. The second he came to that realization, Archie was suddenly gone, simply shattering into nothing right in front of his eyes. And in his place, exactly where the red-head had been sitting, sat Doctor Luke. He looked just like Jughead remembered him. The long ratty dark hair and signature smirk. ‘Atta boy.’ Luke grinned at him. ‘Now, as I was saying...sit down, young man.’ the man patted the edge of the bath, coaxing Jughead to sit next to him. Jughead shook his head and turned to make a run for it, but the room suddenly spun around, as if on a carrousel. His vision blurred, and he felt himself fall backwards.

_Beep, beep, beep._

The sound suddenly shattered his thoughts, streaming into his head, a sense of reality leaking into his foggy mind. Jughead fought against the feeling of falling, of drowning, and tried to focus on the sound. Which sounded like…

Though his stray thought was cut off.

 _‘Maybe your father’s trailer isn’t the best place to talk...’_ Luke’s voice was suddenly slamming into his mind, not gentle like Archie, as the red-head had slowly meandered his way in, his voice quiet and timid. The man’s voice was a piercing skull splitting yell. Before he knew it, he was tied to a chair in one of his classrooms, at his school. Except the classroom was empty. Jughead pulled at his restraints, letting out a howl, but the man only chuckled, still rooted deep inside his skull.

‘Where am I?’ Jughead cried, struggling in the chair. He squirmed in the chair, his gaze skimming between every little detail in the room. It was his History classroom. The posters on the walls were exactly the same, the homework message scrawled on the board in chalk. Because he had been to that lesson. His last class before the summer. Before he started his new job. Everything in the classroom was exactly how he remembered it, right down to stray chairs knocked on the floor, tables crashing together as his class abandoned their work for senseless fighting.

‘Your school, Southside High, of course.’ Luke replied casually, before materializing directly in front of him. He was dreaming. Luke had him in some kind of memory loop- placing him inside pieces of his memory, fragmented shards of time that were deep inside his head. Jughead started to cry, trying to claw at the ropes coiling his wrists. Where was he now? Right at that moment, in the real world? The question struck him like a bolt of lightening, and he struggled harder, becoming more and more hysterical.

‘No, I mean, where _am_ I?’ Jughead’s voice was shaking. ‘Where am I _now_?!’ he tried to throw himself forwards in the chair, but Luke only giggled, crouching in front of him. The man smirked, shaking his head.

‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Mr Jones.’ Jughead felt a childlike whine building in his throat.

‘Why?’ he didn’t realize how scared he sounded, until the fragmented words at the back of his throat came choking from his lips. ‘Why wont you tell me?!’ he struggled again, but the ropes weren’t budging.

‘Jughead, there’s no point struggling.’ Luke smiled widely. The man’s words hit him hard, because he’d heard them before. In Archie’s memory, before his Stitching. He then felt like he had no choice. Jughead sat still in his chair and fixed the man with a rueful look.

‘You’re a bright boy. I’ve seen what you write. Fiction, is it?’ Jughead gritted his teeth.

‘Old school Noir.’ He spat, before he could swallow his words. Luke nodded, slowly.

‘So tell me, Mr Jones.’ He murmured. ‘From a writer’s perspective...’ he straightened up, spreading his arms out to gesture around the classroom. Does any of this look real to you?’ Jughead already knew it _wasn’t_. But just the confirmation that he was indeed stuck inside his own head in Luke’s clutches, made his heart squeeze. Though the man wasn’t done. He was far from it. ‘What about your escape?’ the man’s tone turned teasing. ‘Was that real?’ Luke leered closer. ‘How about that adorable hug you had with my NG’s? Did _that_ seem real?’

‘Stop it.’ Jughead seethed. He swallowed another cry when his head started to pound. It suddenly felt like someone was beating a brick against the back of his skull.

‘Just relax, and let me talk to you.’ Jughead felt like he had no choice. He sat still in his chair and fixed the man with a rueful look.

‘What do you want to tell me?’ he hissed. And just for a second, he felt...powerful. Like he had some kind of repressed power building inside of his head. ‘Are you trying to justify what you’re doing?’ he growled, wincing again, when that same pain from earlier once again sliced into the back of his head.

‘In a way...yes,’ the man said. ‘You see, we had good intentions at first. Well,’ he snorts a little. ‘We still do. Except now we take potential NG’s whether they like it or not.’ He sighs, wistfully. ‘My father, Doctor Samuel Tanzeni was one of the world’s greatest scientists-

‘How come I haven’t heard of him?’ Jughead interrupted. He couldn’t help it. If he was going to spend his last few hours being human making snarky comments, then so be it. Though the man only chuckled.

‘See, Jughead! I knew you’d actually listen! Archie, Betty and Veronica were just whine, whine, whine, help, help, help...yada yada,’ he rolls his eyes. ‘There was no way of explaining it to them, they wouldn’t listen! But with you?’ he grinned. ‘I bet you’re still curious aren’t you?’ Jughead didn’t respond. So the man took his silence as a clear indication that he wanted him to carry on. ‘I knew it!’ the man didn’t lose his impenetrable grin. ‘Basically, to cut a long story short, kid, my father believed in Stitching. He said it was the next step in human evolution for you, and for us? Well, we could just carry on our species.’

‘Species?’ Jughead questioned, biting his lip. Once again, he couldn’t help the curiosity streaming from his lips. ‘So, what, you’re turning normal kids into monsters...because...?’

‘Because,’ the man’s expression darkened and Jughead felt his chest squeeze. ‘Do you think we do this for _fun_ , Jughead?’ he growled, leaning in close. So close that Jughead winced, twisting his head so he wasn’t inches away from Luke’s manic eyes. ‘Once we became aware we were unable to pass down our abilities to our children anymore due to a hereditary problem, we had to get...’ the man frowned. ‘What’s the word for it? Ah, yes. Creative.’ 

‘Creative?’ Jughead’s voice was weak. Luke nodded.

‘We came up with a program that would both benefit you, boring mundane, and us- my father called it Stitching, because we decided to gift young people with our abilities, through genetic engineering, but, Mr Jones, we can’t test mother nature can we? We can’t tip the tip the scales of life? There needs to be balance!’ he ended up shouting that last bit in Jughead’s face. It was at that point when Jughead realized this was a man who couldn’t be reasoned with. He was well and truly crazy. ‘So, Stitching was born.’ The man continued. ‘It was agreed, that we would give a normal child one of our abilities, and in turn-we would take something away from them. Whether it was a body part, something that made them _them_.’ The man winked when Jughead gritted his teeth. ‘For example, a voice?’ he smirked. ‘Or maybe, say, I don’t know...some ears? Maybe somebody’s sight?’ Jughead glared at the man.

‘You’re a monster.’ He growled. ‘This isn’t justifying it! Do you- do you think this makes what you’re doing okay?’ he tried to lurch forward, but the chair held him in place. The man shook his head.

‘Like I said, son-‘ Jughead hissed out a breath.

‘Don’t call me that.’ Luke rolled his eyes and gently cupped the boy’s face. Jughead tried to shake him off, but he found he couldn’t move. He was a prisoner in his own mind.

‘No, but you _are_ my son.’ The man murmured, lips stretching into a grin. ‘At least, you _will_ be.’ Jughead felt hopeless tears spring to his eyes, but refused to give the man the satisfaction that he had well and truly broke him. Though the man didn’t tease or provoke him further. He only continued in what was starting to sound like a triumphant speech. ‘My father had good intentions.,’ he started up again ‘He took children who had nowhere else to go. Orphans and runaways. Kids who wanted a fresh start. But then...’ he frowns a little. ‘He was diagnosed with Testicular cancer. They found it too late,’ he smiles sadly. ‘Within a month he was dead.’

‘Would you believe it?’ he hissed. ‘A brilliant Supernatural scientist like my father dying of a human disease?’ Jughead ignored him.

‘Do you know what his last words were to me?’ the man murmured. Jughead growled.

‘Get psychiatric help?’ he grumbled. Luke had the ghost of a smile on his lips, and shook his head.

'Now, don't get me wrong, I used my father's method at first.' the man crouched in front of Jughead once again, and Jughead resisted the urge to lean back. 'I posted ads in newspapers. I even made a twitter!' the man laughed. 'But nobody came forward. We were starting to worry, Jughead. And then it came clear to me. If we were going to continue our species, we'd have no choice but to take children against their will.' Jughead swallowed a lump in his throat, but the man continued. 'You see, boy. One day I was flipping through the newspaper when a headline caught my eye. It was about Hiram Lodge's daughter, Veronica.,'

he must have sensed Jughead's heart sink into his stomach, because his lips stretched into that oh-so-familiar Cheshire cat grin. 'The article was talking about the girl being the new face for Nivea face cream, and do you know what I suddenly thought, hm?' Jughead didn't answer. It wasn't because he didn't want to any more, even if it was to yell and cry and screech at the psycho, it was more- he just couldn't. Something was clawing inside him, a dizzy fog wrapping around him, blurring his vision, numbing his limbs- and now...his lips wouldn't move. they refused to choke out the strangled words at the back of his throat. Luke, if he had noticed, didn't act like he did.

'Veronica Lodge was my very first successful NG.' he said. 'She made me realize that maybe I didn't need the lost kids? the broken kids?' he grinned. 'I needed the strong, the intelligent, the beautiful..' he winked at Jughead, who shivered. 'Miss Lodge wasn't hard to obtain.. But my, she was a different girl before we Stitched her. A spoilt brat! She screamed so loud, that the idea came to me. A banshee! She was perfect! But, as you might already know, when we first tested her with the Telepathic connection, thing went a little...wrong.' he smirks a little. 'To put it straight, Jughead. We needed a second and third connection to stabilize her. Or poor Veronica was going to end up going mad,

That's where our dear Betty Cooper came in,' he grinned. 'I saw her, like Ronnie, in the Riverdale Press. They called her the smartest girl in this town, a real intellectual.' he cocked his eyebrow. 'How could I resist, hm?' Jughead stared at him, and the man chuckled. 'Ah, and Mr Andrews. You want to hear the story behind his capture, don't you?'

He already knew it. At least, from Archie's point of view. Luke rolled his eyes. 'Ah, you might be surprised to hear this Jughead, but Archie was a split second decision. Unlike Betty and Veronica, he wasn't planned.' _What?!_ Jughead tried to shout, but his lips- like Archie's had been- were sewn shut. Luke seemed to be enjoying himself. 'Well, I grabbed Betty when she was making her way to his performance- she cried out for him, the poor thing. I almost felt sorry for her! But then I understood her! I finally understood who she was calling for. It was the boy on the speakers,' Luke sighed, as if revisiting the memory.

'His voice, Jughead. It drifted from the speakers, the tones of an angel,' he murmurs. 'And I knew, by only listening to him for what? about thirty seconds? that I wanted him, Jughead. I wanted him to sing into people's heads, to light up their thoughts with his melodic voice.' Jughead could only glare at the man. He felt Archie's fear, his pain, when he was Stitched. And knowing the man had taken pure satisfaction in kidnapping the boy and turning him into a monster, Jughead didn't want to hear any more. he just wanted to...to wake up.

'And of course,' the man continues. 'Our fourth connection.' his gaze slides to Jughead, and he grits his teeth. He can't exactly say anything, because something is swarming in his head, a buzzing noise growing louder and louder.

'What's that?' he tries to speak, but the words only appear in his head. He can hear his own voice- painful, excruciating, swimming around in his thoughts.

'Jughead Jones,' Luke smirks. 'You won the Young Carnegie Medal for best book of the year, am I correct?' Jughead refuses to answer, because the buzzing has grown louder, and is now slowly but surely, spreading across his mind, like a hive. 'Now, here's a question for you.' the man's lip curls into a cruel grin. 'What's the name of your book?' He wanted to say it. To scream it. But the name of his own book suddenly felt too complicated to muster. 'What was that?' Luke smiles, cupping his ear. 'Sorry, I didn't quite get that.'

Jughead felt faint. He could still feel a throbbing pain bridging across his skull. Something was...different. It wasn't just his numb lips anymore. It was...just thinking of words, or letters that would create simple speech, there was something blocking his ability to...to enunciate speech. It was taking him a lot longer than normal to conceive words in his head. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. 'What did you do to...me?' that's what he wanted to say, but he couldn't seem to- locate the words, the letters, that made up the string of sentence that was lingering at the back of his throat. Instead, he mumbled some garbled rubbish, which didn't make sense. Jughead felt his chest tighten.

 _'What did you do to me?_ ' a familiar feeling seeped inside him, and he recognized it automatically. It was the mute confusion, the foggy feeling Archie had felt once his voice had been take away. Jughead couldn't help it. He started to cry, trying to wrench himself forwards. 'You- you took my voice?' but he couldn't say it- because the words weren't there in his head, like they normally were. Luke grins.

Just as I thought." the man smirked. "Violent AND impulsive! You're perfect for the ability I have in mind for you.'

Jughead was caught off guard. 'What...' he stammered. 'What ability?' the man just grins. 'You're a smart boy, Mr Jones. You know deep down what it is.'

'What...' Jughead was no longer speaking from his mouth, all of his mixed up words were popping into his head, but some words were missing- like he was reaching for something that was gone, or at best, fading. 'What did you do to me?!' he screamed, but his cry was replaced by a familiar crackle of static, bursting into his mind. The man leaned forward.

'Not long now,' he murmured. 'You see Mr Jones, as I've been telling you the origins of Stitching, and how I took interest in you and the others, you've failed to realize that we've successfully completed...' But the man's voice was fading, and suddenly, so was the classroom. The chair he was bound to was gone, the ropes entwining his wrists- dispersing into the crevices of his own mind. Jughead was suddenly floating for a few seconds, in a sort of limbo, before something crashed into him- or more specifically, his head. It weighed down on him, pouncing onto everything he was. He felt it, as he slipped from the beauty of self-awareness. Three strong signals colliding with him, latching onto his brain, and emitting a powerful, painful screech which knocked him into darkness. The very last thing he heard was Luke’s chuckle. Which sounded _real_. Like the man was inches from his face, followed by the murmur of a female. ‘He’s going to be fantastic.’ The man said, sounding like a proud father.

_Bzzzzzzzzzz._

* * *

He woke up, knowing nothing. He felt as if his memories had been extinguished down a drain.

Jughead came to with a buzzing in his head, which didn’t seem to want to stop, no matter how many times he mentally cried out at it. He couldn’t quite grasp what exactly it was, only that it was extremely infuriating. Though despite his cries, the buzzing only prolonged, until he was sure that he was going crazy. It felt like honey bees were inside his head, battling for dominance.

But then...it started to falter, to fade in and out, becoming more mellow. He felt like he was underwater.

The buzzing eventually stopped, making way for a tinny whine, that started deeply rooted in his skull, and spread out across his mind, taking over his brain. Though something else started too. He couldn’t understand it, but he felt like there was...like there was something, or...or _someone_ inside his head.

His head was throbbing in all sectors. He didn’t know if it was possible for his brain to ache but it definitely felt like it. Where was he? What had happened? He tried opening his eyes but it was no use, he was too exhausted; too fed up. His body felt heavy, especially his head. Maybe his brain had swollen, could that happen? He parted his lips and tried to say something - anything - but his throat was dry; he could barely manage a hoarse grumble. As he managed to lift one hand, he winced as though something sharp was poking through. That’s when he realised there was something nearby, it was beeping. He was in hospital. There must have been an accident but at least he was awake, at least he wasn’t dead.

 _‘Jughead.’_ a girl’s voice was suddenly _there_. Like she always had been, and he felt his own body, his own _mind_ jolt, a shiver flying down his spine and his stomach twisting with nausea.

 _‘Jughead? Are you there?’_ the girl’s voice faded slightly before crackling. The sensation scared him, and he tried to cry out, but his lips were numb.

 _‘Jug, if you’re there...say something.’_ Another voice seemed to pop into his head followed by the sensation of something, an embodiment, settling into his thoughts. The second voice was male. His voice was clearer than the girl’s, it reached out for him, but he recoiled.

Jughead groaned, he felt like his eardrums might burst. Who was it? Who were the kids in his head? Was he going crazy?

Once again, he attempted to open his eyes. Nothing. What was wrong with him? He groaned, bringing his hand up to his face. He felt the soft touch of his skin on the ends of his fingertips but strangely, he couldn’t feel his face - not like he should have done. Continuing up his nose towards his forehead, Jughead realised there was a thick layer of bandages across his eyes - and his head. Panic was beginning to set in as his mind jumped to all kind of conclusions.

‘ _JUGHEAD!_!’ this time, there were three voices. Three voices screeching into his head at the same time. But whatever they were trying to yell was drowned out by another hiss of static which physically _hurt_ him. He tried to block them out, push them away- but they were insistent, forcing themselves into his head. _‘Jug, what did they do to you?’_ a female voice hissed.

He couldn’t speak. _Leave me alone._ He whimpered, in his head. But his thoughts broke down like shattered glass, failing to surface in his head. _Please, please leave me alone!_ He cried. _I’m going crazy. Oh god, I’m going crazy, I’m going crazy..._

The voices embedded inside his head didn’t stop. They continued, along with the persistent buzz. Yelling, shrieking and crying out into his head. After what felt like years of voices bouncing around his skull, they became one single rush of incomprehensible screeching.

 _‘No!’_ Jughead cried out in pain, feeling something hot dripping onto his shoulders. _Stop._ He whimpered _. Stop, please, stop!_ His eyes clenched together, threatening to spill tears but none would form.

‘Hush now, Mr. Jones,’ a man’s voice splintered through the white noise, and it sounded real. It wasn’t in his head. Jughead moved his head in search of who was there, but all he discovered was pain. A white hot slash of agony ripping its way down his skull. The man laughed and Jughead cried out in frustration, his thoughts becoming less foggy, less detached. He suddenly remembered the heat baking him inside his work t-shirt. Reggie Mantle and a grumpy redneck with an attitude...

What was going on? Where was his Dad?

He heard the man chuckle, and for some reason it shot a familiar sense of dread through him. But not just him. He felt _them_ \- who were still there, lurking in his thoughts. He felt their jolt of terror too.

The man was speaking again. His voice was gentle.. Soft. Almost relaxing. Jughead strained to hear what he was saying.

‘Ah, the surgery went well. He’s responding well to the Telepathic connection. It’s just- did you manage to rewire the Temporal Lobe correctly? He seems to not be having difficulty...’ The man’s voice was drowned out then, by another rush of white noise. Jughead winced. The man’s words couldn’t seem to register in his head. 

The man’s voice was back, then. Coming in clear over the static. You’re not quite ready, son,’ he murmured. Jughead felt all the fight, all the rebellion drain from him. But the three entities in his head, the separate bridges in his thought process, thought differently.

‘ _Fight it!’_ One of the girl’s shrieked. _‘Do you hear me, Jughead? Please! Try and fight it!’_

‘Go back to sleep, sweetheart.’ Another voice, a _real_ voice. A nurse? Murmured softly. Within minutes, Jughead felt all pain evaporate into a wonderful state of comfort, and ignoring the rattling in his head, the incessant buzzing along with three different voices yelling his name, Jughead let go, and embraced the darkness swallowing him back up.

-

The second Jughead hit reality once more, memories pummelled his foggy mind like a turbulent wave as they finally resurfaced in his broken mind. Though it accompanied a buzzing, a hissing and whining, which crackled in his head.

**_KRSSSHHHHHHHKRSSSHHHHHHSKKKKRSSSSHHHHHHHHKRSSHHHHHSSHSH_ **

Radio static. He remembered Archie, how he had described the noise that had drowned his mind, deafening his own cries for help. Though it wasn't in Archie's head, it was...it was in his own.

 _Stitched._ It was obvious, but he couldn’t seem to grasp the reality of the situation. ‘ _No..’_ he said softly, the words were clear in his head, but every time he tried to use his mouth, the words seemed to disappear into a dense fog that he couldn’t get through. 

Jughead let out a howl of pain that burst into a rush of static which attacked his mind, but at that point, he didn't care. 'You...you Stitched me?!' he screeched, uncaring how much backlash the static made in his head, uncaring that the feedback felt like needles pricking into his skull, pinching his brain.

His first thought was to spring up with all the strength he had, but upon attempting it, he found himself his arms strapped down. 'No..' he wanted to whimper, but his lips were dry and cracked and, unable to utter speech. But it wasn't just that. he couldn't...he couldn't find the words he wanted to scream and cry out. They were lost in his head, completely out of his reach. 'D...dad?' The words were clear, but they weren't coming from his lips. They were settling into his mind, like they had always been there. Like he had always spoken into his mind, and not through his lips. Something grazed against his consciousness then, and he recognized it automatically. It was Archie. he could feel him, in his head. Like Archie had felt Betty and Veronica. Archie had been crying out for his dad, and the mute crying, the echo, from the red-head's memory, set something off inside his head.

 _'Oh god, dad!'_ Jughead knew he had a deadbeat father. FP Jones wasn't the best father figure, but he was still his dad, and he needed his dad because, fuck, he was terrified. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't-

 _'Dad?!'_ he screamed out, but there was no answer. Because his father had no idea where he was, had no idea if he was dead or alive. He probably didn't care. His chest tightened at the thought, and he felt tears spring to his eyes.

It was just like Archie- the familiar feeling of regaining memories coming back. Though that was... Jughead stiffened, and his heart started to slam into his chest. 'Oh god,' he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But his lips were useless. 'Archie?' he cried out in his mind, a part of him wanting the silence, wanting the normal, what he understood. He could just about to deal with it, being able to hear Archie's thoughts in his head. But to be like Archie? be connected by a telepathic connection which had been drilled into his brain?

The realisation hit him, and he felt himself start to sink, despite being able to feel his back pressed against a mattress, could feel the antiseptic sheets covering his body. The restraints holding him down.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden explosion of static that took off in his brain, reverberating against his skull. Jughead gritted his teeth. He managed a grunt, and he attempted to roll onto his side, but the restraints didn't budge, they only seemed to squeeze tighter around his wrists.

 _'Jug?'_ Veronica. Her voice was gentle, slowly flitting into head. It should have been a relief, but just hearing it made him cry louder, no words, just a cry of pain, of hopelessness. Because he was no longer human, he'd had that taken away from him, and he hadn't even realized. He’d heard this before, in the hallucination that the doctor had placed him in. Where Veronica Lodge had rocked him against her chest, calming his hysterics. But her voice right then, in his head, was sincere, it was warm and kind.

 _'Get..'_ he tried to speak once again, but his lips were numb, his tongue felt none-existent. The words he was grasping for seemed to far away, and he blindly grabbed for them. '.... _out.'_ he finished, before trying to manically yank his mind from hers. _'Get out!'_ he couldn't speak with his lips, so he cried out into his head. Which shouldn’t have felt normal. But it...it did.

 _'Jughead..'_ she whispered into his mind. She sound like she was trying to reassure him, but was barely able to keep it together herself. _'Just...try and calm down, okay?'_

‘ _No!’_ he moaned, putting everything he had- all the mental power he had- into pushing her out. But it wasn’t that simple. He still felt her presence. He could sense her. Beautiful and broken Veronica Lodge dripping with sympathy. Ready to throw it at him whether he liked it or not.

Veronica pulled back then, at least she seemed to. Jughead felt something else smothering him, an emotion that had come over her too. Not, not over - through. It was hot like white iron, zipping through her into his consciousness.

 _'You can't push us out,'_ she murmured _. 'Jughead - you have to work with us. Don't you understand? None of us want this.'_

 _'And I do?_ ' He replied, hissing from the gutter of his throat. Veronica silenced, as though taking a breath to reorganise her battle plan. He could feel her, he could feel her anger starting to dissipate.

 _'Listen to me,'_ she said, her voice firm. No matter how hard he tried to block her out, he couldn't. Her presence was a block in his mind, anchoring down whatever linked her thoughts to his _. 'I know it hurts, okay? Do you know how many nights I spent awake? I'd just lie there, thinking of ways to kill myself.'_ Her voice broke, and Jughead could feel the ache in her chest as if it was his own because right now, all he wanted to do was end it - all of it _. 'Because of the buzzing...the none stop buzzing in my head...'_ she continued, even when he wordlessly begged her to stop _. 'Every God damn night,'_ she whispered _, 'I thought I was going to die..._

Jughead clenched his eyes together, willing the link to fade. He wanted it gone - he wanted her gone. He didn't want to feel her pain, his own was already unbearable enough as it was. He could feel his tears rolling down his cheeks but he wasn't certain that they were his.

 _'Please, Veronica,_ ' he said, lips trembling. He could feel his lips moving as though he were pleading out loud but his voice didn't reach his ears. 'Please, leave me be. Please.'

 _'I can't!_ ' she yelled, angry that he was still trying to push him away despite how hard she found it to open up. Jughead winced, pain shooting along his ear canal from the drums of his mind. He could almost visualise himself following the line that connected them, hovering his hand above the static energy as it lulled him deeper and deeper into his mind. He just needed to turn it off - the buzzing, it was driving him crazy.

'Good morning, Mr. Jones,' said Luke, cutting the power to Jughead's visual thoughts. As his eyes opened, the buzzing stopped. The room he was in appeared to be that of a hospital room, from the railed curtain to the clip on his finger monitoring his heart rate. 'You look well,' he said, smiling down at Jughead, clearly pleased at whatever progress had taken place. Jughead glared, his nostrils flaring. Luke held up his hands, surrendering to the lashing of Jughead's tongue. 'Please, do not exert yourself. You're still healing. I'm only here to make sure you have a drink,' he said, removing a can of soda from his jacket pocket. He pressed the cap in, opening it and letting it fizz over as he placed it down on the portable table. He then pulled a straw from the inside of his coat and placed it inside, his eyes not leaving Jughead's. 'I'll leave when you take a drink.'

Jughead narrowed his eyes, waiting for Luke to present the drink closer to him. Though he wanted nothing to do with the psychopath, he was incredibly parched. His throat almost burned, desperate for the acidic liquid. He sat forward against the bonds keeping him in place, desperate to reach out and grab the can. Luke didn't react, he simply observed. Jughead continued to struggle for a few minutes, barring his teeth as his glare deepened.

 _'Are you going to give it to me or not?_ ' He asked, spitting venom in his head. He knew the bastard could hear him. Luke pursed his lips as he regarded the can with dissatisfaction, he moved the table closer up the bed but still didn't bring the can to Jughead's lips.

'Concentrate, Mr. Jones,' he said carefully, a warning to his tone. Jughead began to struggle again, pulling as hard as he could to free his hands. 'No, Jughead,' snapped Luke. 'Concentrate with your mind.' Jughead stopped, he stared at Luke as his brows knitted together. His eyes flickered between the "doctor" and the soda can, his brain trying to comprehend what Luke was asking him to do. As his eyes fixated on the can, his mind began to race. What had Luke done to him? 'Concentrate, Jughead!’ Luke shouted, stepping away in irritation.

 _'I'm trying,_ ' Jughead hissed, repressing the urge to cry. He pressed his head back into the pillows, wishing he could sleep. He wanted everything to disappear, he wanted to go back to how everything was before.

'Take a drink,' growled Luke, moving close to Jughead and forcing his head in the direction of the can. Jughead tried to pull away, he tried to thrash against him but it was no use. That's when it happened. At first he didn't understand - he didn't want to understand but as he watched it happen again and again inside his own mind, he realised he'd been the one to make it move. The can had shot off the table, smashing into the screen monitoring his heart. Luke had backed away, seemingly shocked at the noise but as both of them stared at the machine which was now screaming, only one of them began to smile. 'Good work,' Luke hummed, pulling the can out of the machine with a grunt. He ignored the liquid spilling out of it as he placed it back on the table. 'I'll send someone in with your dinner.' Luke didn't wait for his response, he left the room; not bothering to close the curtain. Jughead's chest rose and fell sharply as he stared at the deformed can that was leaking fizzy substance onto his chest.

 _'I don't understand,_ ' he whispered, once again narrowing his eyes. _'I don't understand.'_

 _'Jughead, what's going on?'_ Veronica asked, her voice sounded a lot louder in his head which he didn't appreciate. He wasn't sure what to tell her but as he continued to stare at the incomprehensible words on the can before him, he was glad he wasn't completely alone.

 _'I don't know what it means,'_ he said, tears burning on the rim of his lashes. _'I... Veronica...'_

 _'What?'_ She asked, frantic. 'Jughead, what's wrong?'

 _'I can't,'_ he choked out a sob as he stared at the soda can, willing the squiggly letters on the front to form words, but they didn’t.

Jughead let out a cry, and the water cooler on the opposite side of the room started to bubble, shaking slightly. Water sloshed around the plastic tub and he glared at it, before trying to violently throw his hands up. ‘ _No!’_ he cried out. He could feel his voice was starting to come back slowly. But the words felt wrong on is tongue, like he was speaking underwater. All he managed was spluttering out the letter ‘N.’

‘ _Jughead!’_ Veronica was getting impatient. _‘Please tell me!’_

Jughead felt pathetic tears welling at his eyes and something streamed through him, flooding his veins. His fists clenched as he tried to connect the words in his mouth, but it was impossible. The water cooler began to rattle loudly.

‘ _I can’t...’_ he whimpered softly. ‘ _I can’t read!’_


	5. Kids In The Dark

_2008._

_‘Will it hurt?’ The small boy couldn’t stop himself from trembling as the nice man eased Velcro straps over his arms. He tugged at them, craning his neck. ‘I can’t move!’ a sob was squeezing his chest, but the nice man had told him to be brave. So he would be. The boy lay his head against the metal observation table and let out a shaky sigh. The nice man loomed over him. ‘Now, young man. There is no reason to cry. Though yes, it will hurt.’ He murmured. The boy nodded, swallowing hard. ‘I’m...I’m ready.’ He whispered against a cry._

_‘There we are.’ The man smiled down at him, and the boy couldn’t help smiling back. Doctor Sam. He was nice. The nicest man he had ever met. ‘Now, son.’ Doctor Sam was holding a strange device. The boy frowned at it. ‘What is that?’ he asked. He wanted to ask why Doctor Sam had strapped him down so tight, why there were strange things dotted over his face, all over his body. They tickled. He giggled nervously._

_‘This?’ Doctor Sam nodded to the strange device. ‘Ah, young man. This is going to give you special powers.’ He leaned forward, and the boy couldn’t help leaning back against the metal surface. ‘Do you want to be like your favourite Superhero?’ Doctor Sam murmured. The boy thought about that for a second, and then nodded with a grin. ‘Like Spiderman?’ he asked excitedly. He strained against the straps, trying to get up._

_Doctor Sam smiled. ‘Yes. Like Spiderman.’ He murmured. Then he switched the device on and it hummed, vibrating in the man’s hands. The boy squeezed his eyes shut. Spiderman. He thought with a curl of a smile. I’m going to be like Spiderman. He started to think about darting through the city of New York, swinging on his web, saving Mary Jane. Though the happy thoughts didn’t last. Suddenly he was thinking of Rowan, how she cried his name, her hands wrapped around the bars of her cell as she screamed. ‘No! No, please! He’s too young! Sam, you bastard!’ He shivered a little when he heard her cry echo in his mind._

_‘Wait.’ The boy’s eyes flickered open, and he was no longer smiling. He wanted Rowan. ‘Wait, can- can I-‘ But his voice cut off, replaced by a scream that rattled in his ears. It took him a few seconds to realize it was his own. ‘No, no, stop!’ he cried. But he felt it being pumped into him. It struck every organ, every nerve, flooding his entire body with white hot electricity. The boy continued to cry and scream for Doctor Sam to stop, but the doctor mustn’t have heard. Because the pain continued. The boy was sure he was going to pass out from the pain. He could feel his tears wetting his cheeks. He managed to crack open an eye, and found himself staring as his own body jolted and jumped as it streamed a writhing electric blue light that completely consumed him._

_The boy eventually dipped into darkness. The last thing he saw was his own hand struggling against the restraints. His fingers seethed and pulsed a blue energy that tantalized him, before he simply fell._

* * *

Elizabeth Cooper hadn’t felt like she had been part of a family in a long time. She considered her old family- Polly, her mom and dad- they were no longer like her. They didn’t even belong to the same species anymore. Instead, she had a new family. Even if her so-called ‘family’ were three other unlucky kids who had been quite literally mentally-surgically-bound to her. They shared a connection whether they liked it or not. Though Betty considered it the worst thing that had ever happened to her, she had come to realize that going through something so traumatising, so upsetting, with kids going through exactly the same thing, made her feel close to them. She talked to Veronica when she was bored, locked in her room. Archie sung her to sleep when she sat in bed for hours on end crying her eyes out. Bizarrely, there _was_ an upside to having two separate presences constantly rooted in her skull. She could talk to them whenever.

Betty considered Archie and Veronica as family. And now, Jughead Jones, a boy who had been recently taken and only just Stitched, was now a part of them. He was their fourth connection. She could _feel_ him in her head.

Betty tapped the glass of the viewing window with her finger softly. She had found herself standing outside Jughead’s room, where a long stretch of glass, a viewing window used by doctors, gave her a peek into the boy’s hospital suite. He was asleep at the moment, his head of ratty brown curls buried in the sea of pillows cushioning bandages wrapped around his skull. ‘I can’t hear him.’ She said softly. It was normal for her, now, to have her eyes closed. That’s the only way she could see. Betty turned to the other two. Archie, with his face pressed up against the glass, and Veronica, leaning into the red-head, her arms folded, dark eyes on Jughead Jones.

 _‘Me neither._ Archie muttered, in her head. Betty wanted to talk to him, she wanted to reassure the red-head that Jughead was going to be okay, that she was going to make sure the four of them were going to get out of this. But before she could, however, Betty felt a slash of pain rocketing against her skull. She was used to it by now. The visions she received were random, and normally came with agonizing pain attacking her head.

Betty took several deep breaths against the pain. She could see bright orange flames flickering and dancing around a squirming figure, a screaming figure. Betty used to scream when she saw things. They had to strap her down so she wouldn’t hurt herself. But this time, she was calm and collected. She had this. Betty stared into the back of her eyelids, embracing the flickering images stuck inside her brain. She saw fire. It enveloped a figure she couldn’t make sense of. She could hear their wails, and cries. But an identity refused to resurface.

After a few seconds, the vision was over, and Betty was left with bile in her throat. ‘Fire.’ She said softly, using her dry lips and not her mind. It felt strange not to articulate words in her mind, instead using lips, like she had always done. Her head was pounding and she turned, from the viewing screen, to Archie and Veronica, who were frowning at her. _‘You had a vision?’_ Archie asked, worry etched into her tone.

‘B, what is it?’ Veronica murmured. She had grabbed both of their attention. Betty rubbed at her head, trying to chase away the dull throb crawling across the back of her skull. ‘The next Stitching.’ She said softly. It felt good to talk with her lips. Natural. Human. ‘It involves fire.’ Betty started to feel the fourth presence in her heard once again. She turned her attention back to the viewing screen. Jughead was starting to stir. Disjointed phrases entered her mind as the boy drifted back to consciousness. Though she knew he wasn’t _all_ there. Archie noticed, turning back to watch Jughead slowly lift his head, his green eyes crinkling with confusion, and then pain. The three of them watched him once again start to understand that he could no longer interpret physical words. She watched him sit up slowly, his dark eyes scanning the room. The viewing window only worked one way. They could see him, but he could not see them. Doctor Luke had insisted they be there every morning, watching him, to see how he was getting on. Betty suspected the doctor had a hidden agenda. It wasn’t every day they let the three of them out of confinement. But it felt good to finally be together.

‘ _Jughead.’_ Archie said softly, before tapping on the glass. ‘ _Jug!’_ Betty might have joined Archie and Veronica, banging on the glass trying to get the boy’s attention. But something suddenly filled her, a cocktail of pain and anger and terror. She felt blistering skin, peeling flesh and burns. Fire. Cackling fire consuming a mind that only thought of death. _I’m going to die_. She heard his voice seep into her, and that’s when Betty Cooper finally let out a cry so loud that the orderlies rushed to sedate her. But she fought against them, screaming and crying, throwing herself out of writhing arms wrapped around her waist. She wanted to cry out to Archie and Veronica, even to Jughead. Who was still oblivious of her even being there. But Archie and Veronica had been ushered away, and Jughead had buried himself back into his pillows and fallen back to sleep.

Betty didn’t stop fighting, even when they strapped her down. She felt the familiar sharp prick of the IV drip, a mellow feeling enveloping her as the drugs started to flood her veins. But she didn’t stop crying and screeching into the mind’s of her friends, and the ears of her doctor’s. Betty Cooper wasn’t going to let it happen. But she still saw it, like a stuck record in her head. She saw strands of his hair catching alight. She saw flames crawling across his torso, across his face, against his open-mouth as he screamed. But most of all, she felt it _inside_ him. Something so foreign, streaming through his veins, igniting his heart, his lungs, his brain. Twisting him. Changing him.

The Fifth connection. Betty cried out in the dark, as the drugs started to take effect, numbing her struggling arms battling for escape. But nobody was listening. A word popped into her head, then. And he swore she heard Doctor Luke’s laughter tickle the edge of her consciousness.

Phoenix.

* * *

Kevin Keller stared at the mahogany wood of the school-counsellor’s office door and fiddled nervously with the key-ring on his bag. It was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figurine he’d picked up at some thrift shop last summer. It had never really meant anything until he remembered that it was Betty Cooper that had eagerly swiped it from a shelf and begged him to buy it while she bought the other one. He had Michelangelo and she had Donatello; Kevin liked to imagine the little green figurine was still hanging from her pastel school bag. Which had disappeared along with her, along with Archie. Two months ago.

Kevin had thought for some ludicrous moment that his friends had ran off together. He’d held onto that theory, even when they searched every ripple of Sweetwater, even when they held vigils and press conferences. The only reason Kevin started to believe they were really gone... that he had actually lost them... was when another kid disappeared three weeks later. It was some kid from the Southside; Jughead Jones. He went to Southside High with Kevin’s boyfriend, Joaquin, who had described the kid as being quiet and ‘a little nerdy.’

FP Jones, Jughead’s father, was known for being dead-beat. Joaquin had told him a few weeks ago. When he actually bothered talking to his boyfriend. But since his son’s disappearance, FP Jones had never stopped looking. He had even joined Fred Andrews and Alice Cooper on their quest for the truth. Though that mostly included, after several weeks of nothing, of drowning their spirits together in a local bar. Kevin had spotted them last night. He never thought he’d see Alice Cooper drunkenly yelling at people in a club full of teens, but then again- it was the _after_. Anything goes. Fred had refused Kevin’s help in looking for Archie. The man, for some reason, was terrified of any more kids disappearing. So he had made sure Sheriff Keller had set a strict 10pm curfew. Even if Kevin _wanted_ to go looking for them himself, armed with Betty’s Nancy Drew handbook- he’d be tracked down by his over-protective father and escorted home – like a little kid.

So, the perfect girl, the boy next door and the quiet Southside kid had all been dragged from existence; each and every one of them from different sides of Riverdale. It didn’t make sense. And then here was Kevin, left to pick up the pieces; the pieces everyone else in town was so quick to sweep under the rug. Yet Kevin still cried over texts exchanged months ago before any of this happened; they weren’t special and for the most part, it was Betty discussing homework but… but they were the last time they’d communicated, in the _before._ When things hadn’t gone to shit. And sometimes he couldn’t help wondering if the little TMNT figurine on her bag was gone forever… just like her.

Kevin sighed, leaning his head against the coarse wood. It wasn’t time to go in yet. He’d knocked five minutes earlier and received a rumbled shout from inside telling him to wait a few minutes, as if he needed any more reason to turn around and leave. But he didn’t, instead he grabbed a coffee - which, in hindsight, was basically the only substance keeping him together. It didn’t work though; Kevin knew it wouldn’t. It was just another way of yanking him from the stupor he’d been trapped in over the last few weeks. His Father was quick to name it depression but Kevin knew it was grief. Everyone else still walked around as though the three of them would just reappear in class or at Pop’s but Kevin… he could feel that they were gone; like an abyss lodged between his ribs. But not gone as in dead. It was more he felt they were gone as in the kids he knew as Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper, were no more. He constantly feared they would return out of the blue, completely different. But it was better than dead. Which everyone was saying. He’d caught kids at school talking about when the funeral’s were going to be held. He had to bite back the urge to tell them to mind their own business.

Kevin scoffed, a shaky release of air that meant nothing to anyone else. He didn’t even like coffee _before_. A word that he used a lot when referring to a life he didn’t feel was his anymore. In the _before_ , he never drank coffee. He never sipped it from an old stained mug, wearing the same shirt he’d worn for nearly four days in a row. He’d definitely never drank it, leaning against the door to his school councillor’s office; nursing it in a Styrofoam cup that he didn’t bother blowing on.

Kevin never cried either.

In the _before_.

Only at sad YouTube videos and tragic romances. Though now, it was almost every day. He cried when his Father asked him if he wanted to go to Archie and Betty’s vigil. He’d broken down at school because he’d just been too damn tired. The missing posters plastered over every wall, every locker, every classroom door; didn’t help. Though it was never, ever in front of someone.

 _Before_. When Betty and Archie weren’t missing, when Alice Cooper was a woman of power and not a mess. When she put someone in their place, instead of breaking down at almost every press-conference. Though Kevin didn’t like to think of _before_. It was too painful to remember a time when he wasn’t hurting, when Riverdale was just a town known for its delightful maple syrup, not a month long missing person’s mystery which seemed to be progressing into a murder mystery every day that went by. It felt like _before_ was a chapter in Kevin’s life that had been completed. Finished. Done.

So, that only left; _after._

The school corridor was, ironically, therapeutically quiet and Kevin was thankful for that. He’d had to drown out most of his day with loud music. Artists and songs he wasn’t even sure the name of. His headphones still rested comfortably in his ears, however despite the fact that his iPod had died about an hour ago. Kevin had realized that ever since his life had been flipped upside down, pretending to listen to music was a good way to avoid conversations with strangers when they gushed their _sympathy_.

His phone vibrated then, causing that familiar empty feeling rooted in his gut, to return. Kevin reached in his jeans and pulled out the crappy 5S he’d had for nearly two years. He’d begged his father for an upgrade- well, that was in the _before_. In the after, however? He didn’t give two shits. Kevin glanced at his phone’s screen, only to see a recent text that had just came through;

 **NOW: Cheryl: 4:35pm: We need to talk.** Followed by a string of different emoji’s Kevin’s coffee-drunk mind could barely register. He rolled his eyes, thumbed the message, tapping out a reply;

**Go away.**

After he had clicked off of Chery’s message, he found himself idly swiping down his messages. Kevin had barely look at his phone in weeks. If only to see if a surprise text had come through from Archie and Betty, who were in fact _okay_ and _not dead_. Kevin couldn’t help it. His finger was swiping through texts from loved ones, from family members he barely spoke to. From a pizza place him and Betty visited regularly (Buy one pizza, and get one free! With extra toppings + a drink of your choice!). Kevin saw a message from Joaquin, and hovered his finger over it. It was sent last night. Instead of clicking on it, Kevin scrolled right down, until he saw Archie and Bettys messages back to back. The last ever message Archie had sent was when he was looking for Betty. Kevin sniffed, swiping at his eyes, and thumbed Betty’s chain of messages. His heart was hammering.

**Betty Cooper: 7:22pm: I hope this dress looks good! Do you think Archie will like it? I’m thinking about telling him how I feel tonight, Kev. It just feels right! After his show, I’m gonna talk to him.**

His response angered him. He too had been nervous that night, since he had been presenting the show. So all he had texted back was a simple: **Lmao, ok. Tell me how it goes!**

Kevin wanted to strangle his past self. If only he’d known- if only he could have stopped it. He glared at Betty’s message, considering throwing his phone against the lockers. But instead, he pushed it back into his jeans pocket, swallowing a cry. Archie and Betty had been taken. He knew it. But by who?

Kevin couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he knocked twice on the door - again. There was a definite caffeine rush from all the coffee he had downed that morning - unfortunately, on top of that was his stomach; it felt as though it was twisting and turning- curled up with nerves as nausea got the better of him. Kevin was still stewing with a calm anger, the kind that settles just before the storm. His lips twisted into a grimace as he mulled over the confrontation he’d had with his father earlier in the day. Harrison Keller was Riverdale’s first and only Sheriff, and currently in charge of the case behind the disappearances of Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper.

 _< <_

‘Let me speak to my dad,’ Kevin had demanded as he barged his way into his father’s office. An officer stood behind him with a guilty expression as Sheriff Keller looked up from his desk with a creased forehead.

‘He just pushed past me, Keller,’ the officer sighed. ‘Do you want me to escort your son out?’

The Sheriff shook his head, looking back to the case files piled up on his desk.

‘What is it, Kev?’ He asked - more like mumbled, tiredly. Wrinkles etched across his forehead, his lips curved into a frown. His father hadn’t slept all night. There was a coffee cup sitting next to his open laptop, though it was still filled to the brim. He hadn’t touched it. Kevin noticed multiple photographs of Archie and Betty splayed out among bits of paper. His heart clenched. There was one of Betty when they had gone to Summer camp two years ago. She had been mid-swing on a rope swing, her eyes wild, mouth stretched into a grin. Then there was a picture of the three of them on the beach. Him, Betty and Archie. Standing behind a sand castle thirteen-year-old Archie had insisted on them building. Finally, there was a recent one of the two of them at last year’s home-coming. They had looked so damn happy. Kevin forced himself to look away.

Sometimes Kevin wondered if his father purposely hid from him at work because he couldn’t ask questions that were meticulously thought out. He wanted answers and his father was the only one able to give him them. Kevin stepped into the office, adrenaline surging through him.

‘Can me and my father have some privacy?’ Kevin asked, almost sneering at the officer in the doorway. He’d been wide awake and in a foul mood after his father had taken off to work early without telling him. The second he’d woken up, seen the note on the fridge that told him that ‘Everything was fine’ and ‘He should go to school’ - It had angered him immensely. So he’d grabbed his jacket, pulled his shoes on and followed his father to work. Still in the ratty shirt and pants he hadn’t taken off in days. The officer looked to Sheriff Keller and once the Sheriff had nodded his consent, the officer pulled the door shut. Kevin turned back to his father and approached the desk, slamming down a news report he’d printed out.

‘Read it.’

His father eyed him curiously, before looking down at the print out. After a second of scanning the page, he looked up with a sigh and rubbed his forehead irritably. ‘Kevin, this isn’t evidence.’ The article was an old headline from back in 2004; **ST MARY’S ORPHAN DISAPPEARS LEAVING NO TRACE. POLICE ARE BAFFLED.** Kevin folded his arms across his chest.

‘Read it,’ he demanded again, his gaze glued to the scrap of paper.

The man looked ready to protest. He reached for his coffee mug, lifting it to take a sip, but then noticed the brew was a few hours old and set it back down. ‘Rowan J’Niever,’ Sheriff Keller murmured, fiddling with the paper. ‘One of my first cases.’ He seemed to snap out of it, looking back up at his son. ‘Kev, you’re grasping at straws now, okay? Rowan J’Niever is a cold case.’ Kevin gritted his teeth.

‘It’s the same thing, Dad,’ Kevin said, he didn’t realize he was yelling and there were pathetic tears trailing down his cheeks until he found his face pressed against his father’s chest. He didn’t even see The Sheriff standing up and wrapping his arms around him. ‘It’s the same thing,’ he kept repeating it, as if trying to reassure himself that he was right. There had to be _some_ connection. There just had to be!

‘What about Hiram Lodge’s daughter?’ he hissed. ‘Wasn’t she originally from Riverdale?’ he realized himself, then, that he was going a little manic. ‘Are you going to mark that as a coincidence too?’

‘Kevin,’ Sheriff Keller’s voice had been choked. Kevin wondered if he too was slowly losing it. Archie and Betty were kids he saw grow up, used to babysit; they were a huge part of his son’s life. ‘Talk to me, son.’

‘No, I’m fine!’ Kevin sobbed, trying to pull away. Trying to maintain that illusion, that façade, that everything was hunky fucking dory. But his father was the town sheriff. Of course he knew when his son was upset. Or in Kevin’s case, falling to pieces inside. He didn’t need a rocket scientist to figure it out. The dark circles shadowing the boy’s eyes, his pallid skin and unwashed locks of dirty dark hair sticking to his forehead. Kevin Keller was a mess. ‘Dad, I’m fine.’ He had grumbled, inhaling his father’s cologne as he tried to gasp for breath against inevitable sobs choking his chest. But the Sheriff only chuckled.

‘Your friends are missing, Kevin. I don’t blame you for being upset, but please don’t try and pretend you’re okay.’

‘I miss them.’ Eventually he stopped trying to pull away and surrendered himself, letting the tears fall and allowing himself to cry just once. His father sighed.

‘I know you do, Kev.’ And then he was pulling away and grasping hold of Kevin’s shoulders at arms-length. They hugged like that for a while, until Kevin slowly backed away once again.

‘I’m gonna find them. He said, and his father had paled. ‘No, Kevin. You need to go to school. Leave the investigating and police work to us.’

Kevin laughed. Though it wasn’t much of a laugh. More of a sob. ‘What? And wait for Betty’s body to be pulled out of Sweet-water?’ his father had tried to follow him, but he was too upset. Too tired, too fed up. So he had ran from the police station, and ended up at the school. At the councillors office.

 _> >_

Kevin jumped backwards when the door slowly creaked open to reveal a middle aged man with dark hair sprouting from his bald head; a pair of glasses sitting on his nose. Kevin stood there for a few seconds, not knowing what to do. The man smiled at him.

‘Kevin Keller, I presume?’ He gestured behind him into his office. ‘I’ve been expecting you, young man.’ Kevin grimaced. He grasped onto the little Michelangelo figurine as if desperately clinging onto Betty.

‘I really shouldn’t be here,’ he grumbled as the councillor ushered him into the small, box like office. Doctor Stevenson took a seat at a cluttered desk and to Kevin’s surprise, he put his feet up, resting them comfortably on the desk.

‘Would you like to sit down?’ He asks, kindly, gesturing to a beat up wooden chair sitting opposite him. Kevin hesitated before letting out a sigh and wandering over, slumping in the seat. His entire body felt heavy and he so desperately wanted to give into gravity, maybe lie in a heap on the floor. ‘What brings you here today?’

‘You already know-’

‘I want to hear it from you, Kevin,’ Doctor Stevenson said, interrupting him. Kevin threw his hands up in the air, irritation puffing out his chest.

‘I don’t know,’ he shouted. ‘I’m the only one that will admit my friends were taken yet I’m the crazy one.’

‘You’re not crazy, Kevin,’ the Doctor said, his tone unexpectedly warming. ‘You’re under a lot of stress, you’re upset; that’s alright.’

‘So...so why am I the one being sent to therapy?’ Kevin asked, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘Huh? How come everyone else is just getting on with things?’

‘Everyone else isn’t Betty Cooper’s best friend,’ he replied. ‘Kevin, you have to understand. People deal with tragedies differently. Nobody ever thinks it’ll happen to them or someone they know - their minds can’t comprehend how they should be feeling.’

‘So, what? I’m not like other people? There’s something wrong with me?’

‘No,’ Doctor Stevenson said, putting his hands up in surrender to bring Kevin’s tone down. ‘You need to cut yourself some slack here-’

‘How can I? My best friend is missing, three kids are missing and nobody gives a crap!’

‘Yes, yes, they do.’

‘What’re they doing? Huh? Nothing, they’re doing nothing!’ Kevin stood and began pacing, anger filling up inside him like a gun being loaded.

‘The police are looking, Kevin. Your Dad is looking,’ the Doctor replied, putting his feet down and slowly rising to his feet; his eyes fixated on the wrist Kevin was scratching absentmindedly. ‘Please, take a deep breath.’ Kevin huffed and let his hands fall to his side. He took a moment to regain composure and looked back at the Doctor; irate that he was wasting both their time. That’s when he noticed the way Doctor Stevenson was looking at him- looking at...his wrist. Kevin followed the man’s gaze down to where he could see red lines breaching his sleeve, and the anger began to bubble again. Kevin laughed - albeit, a bit maniacally.

‘Right,’ he said, rubbing his chin. ‘I get it. You, my Dad, everyone - you’re all looking to label me. You all want there to be some underlying problem that you can address, hoping it’ll fix everything. Well guess what, Doctor,’ he sneered, ‘The only thing that will fix me is if Archie and Betty miraculously walk through that god damn door.’ Kevin then raised his arm and pulled his sleeve down, letting the doctor see the faint wounds. ‘Cat scratches,’ he explained before shaking his head in disbelief.

‘Kevin-’

‘Save it,’ he said, a glare heating his face. Whatever Doctor Stevenson was about to say, it was muted in his throat as there was a knock of the door which was opened a second later. Kevin’s glare faltered as confusion and surprise won out. Standing in the doorway with her signature sweet smile was Cheryl Blossom.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting,’ she said, though Kevin doubted she actually cared. Luckily for both of them, Kevin was done with his session anyway. ‘I’ve been told to escort Mr. Keller to the station, his Dad has sent for him.’ Kevin’s stomach flipped; maybe they’d found something. Before Doctor Stevenson could utter a word, Kevin was already pushing past Cheryl on his way out - much to her irritation. ‘Excuse me would have sufficed,’ Cheryl bit, following after him. Kevin’s mind was whirling; the corridor, the school - everything became just a little more surreal. ‘Hey,’ she shouted, stepping in front of him with her hands out. ‘Your Dad didn’t really send for you,’ she told him. Kevin sucked in a breath.

‘What? Why would you-’

‘I need to talk to you,’ she said. Kevin’s brows knitted together.

‘Couldn’t you just have waited? Christ, Cheryl. The world doesn’t revolve around you,’ he spat, taking a few steps back and pressing his palms to his eyes. Cheryl had the decency to look a little guilty but the look was gone in a short moment.

‘It couldn’t wait,’ she told him. ‘I- I heard you the other day...in the cafeteria.’ Kevin let his hands fall from his face and gave her an impatient expression. ‘You were telling that scrawny kid about your dreams,’ she continued, emphasising the word _dreams_. Kevin wasn’t sure what she was getting at, a headache coming on quick. He exhaled sharply.

Kevin swallowed. ‘that scrawny kid’ has been Midge, a friend of Betty’s. He’d been telling her about his own- bizarre dreams. Where Archie was crying out for help in his head. Though it felt so real. Sometimes he’d wake up with a name on his lips- an image in his head. But it faded too quickly for him to make sense of it. Though now that he knew Cheryl had in fact heard it, his cheeks grew warm.

‘Get to the point, Cheryl,’ he muttered. Cheryl clicked her tongue and put her hands on her hips.

‘I’ve been getting dreams like you,’ she told him, ‘only I’m not asleep.’ It took Kevin several long seconds of staring into Cheryl’s eyes before he realized she wasn’t joking.

‘Oh,’ he said, his anger dissolving. ‘What happens in these dreams?’ he decided to humour her. After all, it was the first time he had laughed in- well, ever. He smirked a little. ‘Did these so called ‘dreams’ involve me leaving?’ he started to move towards the exit doors, righting his bag on his shoulder. ‘Bye Cheryl.’ He muttered.

‘No, Kevin, wait,’ Cheryl grabbed for him, tugging him back. She sighed. ‘Look, I’m not joking, okay?’ She hesitated before pulling him close, hissing in his ear. ‘I can hear that Andrews boy in my freakin’ head!’ she hissed, jabbing at her right temple. Kevin winced. ‘You mean Archie?’ he felt a rush of something flood his veins. Something he hadn’t felt in a while. The world seemed a little clearer through his caffeine haze. Kevin folded his arms, scrutinizing the red-head. Suddenly Archie’s voice in his dreams didn’t sound as crazy as he thought.

‘Talk.’ He muttered, leaning against the wall. Cheryl’s eyes widened, as if she was shocked he actually believed her.

‘Right.’ She said softly. Her green flecked gaze flickered, and she seemed to remember she was standing in the middle of the school corridor. ‘Not here.’ She muttered, before grabbing Kevin’s arm. ‘Come on, Keller. I’ll treat you to a milkshake.’ She stopped to actually look at him, at his pale cheeks and red eyes. ‘Jesus, you need one.’

‘I’m good.’ He grumbled. Though Cheryl shook her head. ‘No, trust me. You look like literal death.’

‘What?’ Kevin ignored the insult and let the girl drag him down the corridor, over to the exit-doors. ‘Where are we going?’ Cheryl didn’t turn around.

‘Look, all I know is that you’re the only one who is going to believe me...just follow me, we’re going to Hadfield’s.’ Kevin frowned.

‘Where?’ He hissed. Though, yes, it seemed familiar. He was suddenly imagining brightly lit aisles of food and necessities. Mouldy yellow floor tiles and a huge skylight. Hadfield’s. Kevin felt sick. The last place the Southside kid, Jughead Jones, was last seen. Kevin had seen the police reports. The kid had completely disappeared, out of the blue. After apparently complaining of heatstroke. Cheryl spun around, her scarlet hair whipping over her face. ‘Just trust me.’ She hissed, pulling him out into the misty, Fall afternoon. The boy shivered, his gaze sticking to the pavement as the red-head dragged him down the path. Kevin knew in the _Before_ , he would pull away, before heading back inside. But this was the _after_. Kevin swallowed. Something was pushing against his brain. It felt like a weight, a presence, filling him with quiet dread. ‘Lead the way.’

* * *

It didn’t take long to get to Hadfield’s despite it being across town; thanks to Cheryl’s manic driving. When he had questioned her about it, she just gave him this stare - and it shut him up. Kevin had to jog to keep up with Cheryl as she marched through the automatic doors of a gas station on the outskirts of Riverdale, her heels clapping the lino.

‘Okay, so game-plan.’ Cheryl said, pulling Kevin close as they walked down each aisle, seeking out the front desk. ‘We need to get into the back room where the CCTV is.’

‘Sounds easy enough,’ Kevin muttered sarcastically.

‘Hold on!’ Cheryl yanked them to an abrupt stop. ‘We’ll wait until the desk is empty.’ She starts to pretend to scan the frozen food section. Refrigerators line up the perimeter, filled with goods. 

‘Are you suggesting we just- walk in?’ Kevin hissed. ‘Because I’m almost positive they’ll be security guards.’ Cheryl turned to face him, her lips set in a scowl.

‘Kevin, I saw this place.’ She said softly. ‘That Andrews boy-‘

‘Archie.’ Kevin muttered. Cheryl nodded.

‘Right. Archie.’ She curled her lip and looked up, scanning her surroundings. ‘I saw images, like..’ she screwed her face up. ‘Moving images, like a movie...in my head.’

‘How?’ Kevin whispered. The girl shrugged.

‘I don’t know? It only started last night. I was having dinner with Jason and my mother, and then...’ she hesitates. ‘I just...I just heard him, and then I saw, well-‘ she’s interrupted by a member of staff over the intercom.

‘Store is closing in ten minutes!’ the overly-happy voice yelled. ‘Ten minutes!’ they repeated. Kevin winced. The intercom feedback went straight through him. He stared at the girl.

‘What happened?’ he hissed. ‘Did- did you see him? What about Betty?’ As ridiculous as this all sounded, he couldn’t stop that flicker of hope flickering in his gut. He didn’t realize he had started to shout. Cheryl shook her head.

‘I just saw this place,’ she murmured. Kevin couldn’t help it.

‘When Archie spoke into your head,’ he said shakily. ‘What did he say?’ If Cheryl was being serious, that Archie was more than a ghostly presence in her head, like he was in his. He had to know. Cheryl studied him for a second, before closing her eyes, a breath escaping her lips.

‘He was just crying out,’ she said softly. ‘First, he kept saying this place. Just the name over and over again. Then it felt like he was projecting images of this place into my head. I could see them perfectly, Kevin.’ She whispered, looking desperate. Kevin stared at her, and Cheryl bit her lip. ‘You don’t believe me do you?’

 _No._ His mind muttered, stubbornly. Kevin sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he motioned for them to carry on down the aisle.

‘Who are we looking for, anyway?’ he asked. He didn’t realize his voice was audibly shaking. The store was mostly derelict- except from an old woman scanning the dairy section.

‘Him,’ Cheryl merely said, strutting straight up to the front desk. Kevin followed the girl’s gaze and saw a boy who couldn’t be that older than the both of them, standing by a display of red vines. He was taller and much more toned than Kevin, in a baby blue t-shirt with a cartoon turtle on its crest. He was of Asian descent with olive skin. He looked like a Southside kid. ‘Hey!’ Cheryl rounded the front of the desk and grinned at the boy. Kevin was still trying hard to register what Cheryl had been saying. His thoughts were all over the place. He craved coffee. It cleared his head. But even the thought of brown bean juice steaming on his tongue failed to suppress the agonizing thought ripping his insides to shreds. His eyes felt heavy. What Cheryl had been describing- it sounded like it really was Archie’s spirit calling out to her. Kevin felt his chest tighten, his breath going shaky. He had been avoiding the thought for so long, but what if they really were dead? What if Archie was trying to tell Cheryl (a psychic?) where he was murdered?

‘Kev.’ Cheryl nudged him, and he whipped his head up, swiping at his eyes. The boy at the register was frowning at him.

‘Is he okay?’ He asked. Though Cheryl was quick to answer.

‘He’s fine!’ She snapped.

‘Then... Can I help you?’ The boy asked, confusion riddling his tone. Cheryl narrowed her eyes, not in any mood to be swayed. Kevin looked between the both of them, blinking rapidly. The store’s lights were suddenly far too bright, causing shadows to dance across his peripheral. ‘Because if you guys aren’t buying anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ Cheryl nodded slowly, her grin growing less flirtatious, and more manic.

‘Well, I’m Cheryl Blossom,’ she introduced herself, and then gestured to Kevin. ‘And this is my friend Kevin,’ she says lightly, her smile twisting into a challenging grin. ‘He’s the sheriff’s son.’ The boy nodded, straightening up.

‘Alright, what do you want?’ Cheryl smiled triumphantly.

‘Can we talk to you for a second?’ She asked politely, and the boy, with the knowledge that Kevin was the sheriff’s son, seemed more lenient.

‘Sure?’ And then he raised his eyebrows, seemingly understanding. ‘Is this because of Jughead?’ He murmured, losing his smirk. ‘Because I’ve already talked to the cops, and listen man, I’ve just done a seven hour shift. I don’t wanna talk about the Jones kid. Last time I saw him, he was yammering on about-‘ he frowned, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Someone talking into his head?’

‘What?’ Cheryl frowned. _Talking into his head_. The thought hit Kevin, like a wave of ice water. Like Archie had been supposedly talking into Cheryl’s skull. He leaned a little closer, his attention spiking. ‘What did you say?’ he asked. The boy rolls his eyes.

‘I’m Reggie by the way.’ He muttered. ‘Anyway, yeah. I dunno, it was a pretty hot day, and besides, he was under loads of stress ..’ Kevin jumped in.

‘Are you saying he heard the boy- like...telepathically?’ he asked Reggie. The boy nodded, and shivers started to slide down Kevin’s spine. Reggie saw his expression and smirked. ‘Dude, I’m pretty sure he was hearing things,’ he laughed. ‘Kid was acting pretty weird all day.’ Kevin felt his stomach flip over.

‘Did you see the boy he was talking about?’ he hissed. Though to his disdain, Reggie shook his head.

‘Sorry, man. I didn’t. But it was like 104 that day. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was hallucinating.’ Kevin was speaking before he even knew what he was saying.

‘What about a blonde girl?’ he asked desperately. He gripped the edges of the desk, his knuckles whitening. ‘She’s about this height,’ he indicated with his hand. ‘And she has pale skin, wears her hair in a ponytail, has a little bag with this- with this...’ he started to stumble over his words. ‘This little- I’m not sure if you watched the show, but it’s about these turtles who are-‘ Cheryl interrupted him. Though it was probably best. He could feel himself spiralling. 

‘We need to see some CCTV footage,’ She told Reggie, folding her arms. ‘Now.’ Reggie rolled his eyes.

‘Sure, I’ll just let two random customers into the back room.’ Cheryl scowled.

‘Five minutes, Blue Lagoon.’ She growled. Reggie sighed.

‘Look, the police have asked for the footage but haven’t got round to actually collecting it.’ He scratched his head. ‘Besides, my manager Mark looked over the footage. There’s nothing there. We’ve been over the clip’s at least fifty times.’ Kevin understood that the police hadn’t collected it. His father was still buried in leads in Archie and Betty’s separate cases. He nodded, turning to walk away, but Cheryl however, wasn’t having any of it. Kevin noticed she had resorted to twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger.

‘Look, we’ll take five minutes!’ She hissed. The desperation was clear in her voice. Kevin wondered if the reason Cheryl wanted to see the footage so badly, was to see if her so-called ‘visions’ were right, and she wasn’t crazy. Reggie glared at the two of them for a few seconds, before his expression crumpled. ‘Fine.’ He grumbled, before looking around the shop for any more customers.

‘Follow me.’ He muttered, leaving the counter and striding back through the store. ‘If I get in trouble for this, I swear to god.’ He led them to a back-room and pulled out a key, shoving it in the lock. There was a click, and the door opened easily, with Reggie wandering in, fumbling for a light switch and clicking it on. ‘You coming in or not?’ he turned to look at them. Kevin and Cheryl exchanged fruitful glances, before following him inside.

* * *

‘So, here’s the tape from the day Jughead disappeared.’ Kevin leaned idly against a shelf, arms folded, watching Reggie flip through a box of CCTV footage in what looked like a lunchbox. The boy held up a tape labelled **‘15/08/2017’** in black marker. ‘I never thought much of it.’ Reggie said, his gaze stuck to the tape. ‘I sent him home, since he was rambling on about-‘ he chuckles a little. ‘Fucking voices in his head.’ He inhaled sharply, scratching at his head. ‘Next thing I knew he wasn’t coming into work, his dad was looking for him, and...suddenly he’s missing, like those rich kids on the North side. He let out a shaky laugh. ‘Fucking terrifying, man. What were their names again?’ Kevin stiffened.

‘Archie and Betty,’ he answered, his tone flat. Reggie frowned at him.

‘Friends of yours?’

‘Wasn’t it obvious?’ Kevin mumbled. He shivered a little. Kevin hated enclosed spaces, and the storage closet was everything that made him squirm internally. The room was smaller than his bathroom at home, had a low ceiling, shelves crammed with old stock and what looked like boxes of paperwork. Kevin bit his tongue against a complaint and joined Cheryl and Reggie standing in front of an ancient TV monitor. ‘Hold on, let me swap the footage.’ Reggie muttered. His face was lit up an electric blue from the monitor which displayed a bright Azul screen with the words NO SIGNAL in blocky yellow letters. Cheryl stared at the screen, her lip curled, as Reggie inserted the tape into an ancient looking VCR player. The television screen flickered for a second and the three teens leaned forward in anticipation.

‘Is it supposed to do that?’ Cheryl asked; her gaze on the screen, as it switched to a monotonous black. Reggie frowned before ejecting the tape and re-inserting it but the same thing happened. The screen was blank.

‘There’s no footage,’ Reggie muttered after a few seconds of silence. Kevin felt that last dreg of hope of finding Archie and Betty slowly drain away.

‘What do you mean there’s no footage?’ He asked, shooting a glance at a bewildered Cheryl. ‘You said there was footage on it!’

‘There was!’ Reggie tried the tape again but the screen stayed blank and unresponsive. He sighed, frustrated, ejecting the tape once again and peering at it. ‘I don’t get it.’ He murmured, his face awash with the dim light from a flickering light bulb. ‘We were literally viewing the footage a few days ago.’

‘’You mean someone wiped it?’ Cheryl hissed. Reggie scoffed.

‘How? Who’d wipe it?’ Kevin didn’t think he could take anymore. He straightened up, scrubbing at his face. He could feel a headache coming on.

‘Thanks anyway,’ he muttered, well aware that he was choking on his words. He had to get out before he started sobbing uncontrollably. For once, just _once_ , he hadn’t felt hopeless. He had actually felt there was a chance of finding Archie and Betty alive. And once again, his hopes had been shot down. Kevin didn’t waste anymore time in the confines of the storage closet. Before he knew what he was doing, he was walking back through the store, through the automatic doors, and out into the crisp evening air.

‘Kevin!’ Cheryl’s voice was faded, from inside. But she wasn’t following him. He scoffed. Figures.

He needed coffee. That was the only thought on his mind as he tried to suppress the hopelessness clawing inside him, ripping him apart. Kevin wandered out into the parking lot and started digging in his pocket for his phone. With shaking hands he started to type out a text to his father while he looked up every so often to see if Cheryl was coming. She was probably still in the storage room with Reggie. Kevin’s gaze wavered on the automatic doors spilling bright light from inside the store but there was no sign of either the red-head or store employee. Kevin hissed in frustration, turning his attention back to his phone.

 **Dad**. He typed, slowly. His eyes were stinging. **I’m ready to talk. I think I’m going crazy. Can I come and see you at the station?** Kevin swallowed when he typed the last bit. **I love you.**

His finger hovered over the SEND button as his stomach did flip-flops. Kevin swiped at his eyes, sniffing loudly. He wasn’t going to cry. Especially not in a fucking parking lot. He looked up from his phone, letting his eyes sweep the lot. _If Cheryl wasn’t crazy and Archie really had been crying into her head- Archie had said..._ His gaze flittered over each car parked, the parking meter, a broken smoothie cup spilling its contents. _Here._

Why? Kevin took one more look, scrutinizing every inch of the parking lot before his breath caught in his throat at the sight of something small- something so insignificant to anyone else. But to him, it caused his heart to leap into a hyperactive frenzy.

Kevin was moving across the lot before he could fully register what was happening, shoving his phone back in his pocket.. His converse crunched on the gravel as he felt his knees slam into the concrete, his hands grasping for the little figurine standing up on its own on the edge on the sidewalk. Kevin stared, his heart in his throat. Donatello.

It couldn’t be.

Kevin fiddled with the little figurine, turning it around in his hands. The figure was curved exactly like Betty’s. It had the same bulging nose as the one Betty had bought. Even the little purple scarf and its iconic weapon. It stuck out, sharp and pointy. Betty had made a joke about it when she had bought it. “It’s too sharp,” she had laughed, sticking her finger on the point, and dramatizing a hiss. Kevin straightened up, still holding the figurine, before he watched, wide-eyed, as it blinked out of existence straight out of his hands. Kevin blinked rapidly, his fingers still grasped around thin-air. No. No, he wasn’t crazy. But the more he stared at his empty hands, the more he started to doubt himself. Cheryl’s name was on his lips and he turned to yell it, his chest bursting. But he was intercepted by a figure standing directly in front of him. It was a middle-aged man with long dark hair and a smile which made him feel uneasy. Kevin frowned, stumbling a little.

‘Kevin Keller.’ The man spoke, his words already setting off alarms in Kevin’s head.

‘What?’ Kevin turned his head slightly, to see if Cheryl was in his vicinity but she didn’t appear. Kevin turned back to the man, furrowing his eyebrows. When the man only smirked at him, dark eyes gleaming, he cleared his throat. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ he muttered, turning and beginning to walk away.

‘Mr Keller, Is it correct that you have some missing friends?’ The man’s words hit him hard, and he couldn’t help twisting around back to face the mysterious man. The alarm bells were deafening. Kevin looked past the man, recoiling, when he noticed a white transit directly behind him. His voice started shaking.

‘What do you want?’ His legs felt weak but he didn’t turn to run. The man’s smirk kept him glued to the ground.

‘Ah, that’s what I’d like to hear.’ The man smirked. ‘Getting straight to business.’ Kevin took another daring step back but the man just laughed. ‘Mr Keller, I’d suggest against running.’ He cocked his eyebrow, smirking suggestively. ‘Besides, don’t you want to see your friends?’ Kevin felt his blood run cold. A sharp shiver slithered down his spine, but he couldn’t run. Even when his heart was nearly beating out of his chest. His voice quivered.

‘Where are they?’ He managed to choke out.

‘So demanding.’ The man rolled his eyes. ‘Mr Andrews, come out here and show your little friend you’re not dead.’ Kevin’s stomach vaulted into his throat when the shutters of the white transit rattled and began to ascend. The man cleared his throat and Kevin fought against a cry for help. He tried to look past the man, desperately looking for Cheryl, but the shutters were halfway up, and his gaze was suddenly glued to the white transit where a figure seemed to emerge from the darkness which was the back of the van. Kevin squinted but his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. This was really happening.

The figure _was_ Archie. But it wasn’t _his_ Archie. The boy he had grown up with. The boy had the same dark red hair and stream of freckles over his nose and cheeks but he lacked anything that was Archie. The boyish grin, the teasing eyes. Instead Archie’s eyes seemed to glaze over, a blankness to them that turned Kevin’s stomach. The boy’s cheeks were gaunt, his skin pallid. He was wearing what looked like hospital scrubs. Archie stood up straight, his arms by his side as he stared straight through him. Kevin found his voice, after biting back a scream which was slowly crawling up his throat.

‘What did...’ he swallowed hard, tearing his gaze from the immobile red-head. Archie didn’t move, as if awaiting orders. Kevin choked out a sob. The shutters rattled once more, making Kevin flinch. They rolled back up, sealing any hope he had of seeing Betty again.

‘Now Kevin, you should know that one of my little tricks is on this entire parking lot.’ The man said. ‘Don’t bother crying out for daddy.’ Kevin couldn’t move, the man’s words not registering in his head as he only continued to stare at Archie.

‘What did you do to him?!’ He could only hiss, his hands were already digging into his pocket, fingers sliding along the edges of his phone. Though the man didn’t seem to notice.

‘Sorry about this.’ He sighed. He gestured to Archie’s vacant expression. ‘When I told him that you, Kevin, were the fifth connection, let’s say he wasn’t too happy.’ He maintained his grin, however. ‘So I put him on autopilot!’

‘What?’ Kevin, now free of the petrified feeling that had came over him, started to back away. But the man was only getting closer, his lips twisted into a satisfying smile. ‘Take care of the girl, Mr Andrews,’ he murmured, turning to Archie, whose expression lit up but his eyes stayed impassive, his expression inanimate. He only nodded and jumped out of the van before striding, blindly, over to Hadfield’s automatic doors. ‘Wipe her clean,’ the man growled before turning back to Kevin. ‘Now, where were we?’ Kevin couldn’t keep his eyes off of Archie as the red-head slipped through the doors, straight into the store. He tapped desperately on his phone’s screen which was still situated in his pocket. He had to stall.

‘What..’ his voice was almost a whisper. There was a hint of hysteria to it as he fought back the overwhelming urge to scream ‘What did you do to them?’ The man only grinned.

‘All in good time, Mr Keller. Now, I do this with everyone. It’s only fair I do it with you.’ He leaned forward, a triumphant smile plastered on his lips. ‘Kevin Keller, would you like to join my-‘ Kevin jumped when the man was suddenly thrown backwards by an unknown force. It looked like he had simply been plucked from where he was standing and dragged backwards by invisible hands before hitting the ground a few feet away. Kevin whipped around to the crumpled form of the man who didn’t move. And then his gaze was on the store, where Archie was. ‘Archie!’ He yelled as he began to stagger forwards, disoriented.

‘N- no, d- don’t!’ A voice yelled, causing him to stop abruptly. Except he hadn’t stopped. He had been desperate to get to Archie, to save Cheryl from whatever ‘wiped her clean’ meant. But Kevin found himself losing touch of gravity as he rose up a few inches from the floor before being thrown backwards. He hit the ground, gasping when the breath was knocked from his lungs. ‘F- fuck!’ The same voice hissed. Kevin managed to shakily jump up, adrenaline coursing through him, setting him on auto pilot. He stared as a boy stood in front of him, both palms held out in front of him. His expression was wild. Kevin jumped when the white transit started to rock slowly, before gaining momentum and seemingly rattling on the spot. The wind-mirror shattered and Kevin- felt it. Something invisible tugged at him, playing with his hair and blowing his jacket open. It took an instant for his sluggish brain to realize it, but Kevin got it automatically. It was the boy.

‘K-‘ The boy’s face crumpled and hissed in frustration, his fingers tugging at the bandages wrapped around his head. He seemed to take a few deep breaths before opening his mouth. ‘Kevin.’ He hissed, teeth clenched before pointing his outstretched palms at him. Kevin winced. ‘Y- you need to run!’ Kevin stared hard. He knew the kid.

Jughead Jones.

The missing Southside kid. Kevin remembered reading about the boy, in his father’s police reports, as well as word of mouth from Joaquin. _Writer_. The word hit him as he frowned at the boy. He knew he should run, that he should call the police before the man woke up- or better yet- find Betty. But he couldn’t stop staring at the boy, who was Jughead Jones, but also, like Archie, _wasn’t._ Joaquin had told him Jughead had a way of talking with words which made you feel inferior. That he articulated words perfectly, popping them from his tongue. Except this couldn’t be him. He could barely string a sentence together. He stood in the same scrubs-like clothes Archie had been wearing except there was a white bandage wrapped around his head, pressing against dark hair blowing in the breeze. The boy looked more _human_ than Archie. More than a teenager and less than a weapon. The boy’s expression was anything but submissive. Kevin tenderly touched his ear, wincing when he felt the unmistakeable warm wetness of blood dripping down his neck. Jughead didn’t waste any time. He rushed forward and Kevin found himself backing away.

‘Did you do that?!” He managed to choke out, as he gestured, wildly, to the man, who was still knocked out. Jughead looked hurt for a second before shaking his head, lowering his arms. The van stopped rocking backwards and forwards, and Kevin’s jacket stopped flapping in the invisible breeze.

‘Pol-‘ Jughead groaned, his hands once again going to tug violently at his bandages, as if they were the barrier between him and coherent speech. ‘Police.’ He growled. Kevin didn’t need to be told twice. He reached into his pocket and tugged out his phone with shaking hands.

‘What did they do to you?’ he couldn’t help asking it with shaky breath. ‘What’s going on? What the hell is up with Archie?’ He knew the boy heard, but Jughead ignored him, turning his head away. Kevin winced. There were scarlet blots dotting the bandage wrapped around his head. He longed to reach out and rip off the dressing, exposing what had been done to the poor kid. Kevin’s mind was on overdrive. The missing kids _had_ been taken. He thought of Archie- emotionless, submissive Archie. Then he thought of Jughead, how he had thrown their kidnapper halfway across the parking lot, with- _with what?_

‘L- Lice...’ Jughead seemed to be forcing out the words, as he struggled with every pronunciation. ‘P-P...’ He pointed, stabbing his finger, to the licence plate on the van, and Kevin understood automatically. He started to type in the code, his hands trembling.

**J98257.**

Kevin’s fingers danced across the screen as he typed out **HADFIELDS**. He looked up, about to tell the boy to get Archie, but Jughead’s eyes were suddenly wide open in fright as they stared past him, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. Kevin only had time to whip his head around, only to see the boy from the store- Reggie Mantle. Kevin opened his mouth, ready to ask for help, ask where Cheryl was. But Jughead was already yelling.

‘Re-?!’ The boy’s yell was cut off, and then he seemed to be shouting something else but he only made desperate noises with his mouth, as the words refused to choke from his throat. Kevin only had enough time to see Reggie’s lips curl into a smirk, followed by a sudden movement, a blur of Reggie’s hand, as it formed a fist and smashed him directly in the jaw. Kevin felt an explosion of agony rock his body, his knees giving out.

He felt his neck crack, his body slumping backwards, hitting the concrete. Kevin’s vision swam, his brain bouncing against his skull as he spat blood out onto the ground, blinking back tears. He groaned, trying to get up but Reggie pressed the foot of his trainer into his back so he couldn’t move.

‘Turn around.’ Reggie ordered, using the toe of his shoe to coax Kevin to turn, even when every nerve and fibre in his body protested, onto his back. Kevin stared through bleary eyes at the two boys stood over him.

‘Hey, Jughead.’ Reggie’s voice murmured in his ringing ears. ‘Nice to see you again, mate.’ There was only a choking sound which sounded like the Southside boy was trying to speak. Reggie laughed and all Kevin could do was watch as the boy picked up his phone which had fallen from his grasp. He didn’t see what happened next. There was only a bright electric blue light which flashed, followed by his phone, tendrils of smoke seeping from its screen fell to the floor. The screen was dark. Dead. ‘Get up.’ Reggie growled. When Kevin didn’t move, he found himself being lifted up, Reggie’s arms wrapping around his chest and yanking him to his feet. Though he was too weak, his head was pounding. Reggie had to hold him to support his legs. Kevin could only stare at Jughead, as the boy glared at Reggie.

‘You s-sick f- fuck.’ The boy’s voice was a whimper. He was suddenly lifting his arms, palms once again outstretched. He was shaking. Kevin noticed. His thoughts were all over the place. _What was he going to do?_ Reggie only chuckled.

‘Not so articulate are you now, Juggie?’ And then he held out his own palm. But instead of holding it as if to attack, he simply held it, as is showing something. Kevin gaped, his gaze planted on the boy’s olive skin, as tendrils of electric blue light sizzled and thrived up and down his fingertips, illuminating both Reggie and Jughead’s faces. No. Kevin tried to look away, but he couldn’t. It was almost mystifying. Hypnotising. Jughead seemed entranced too before his gaze flickered from the boy’s palm to Reggie himself. _How?_ Jughead didn’t need to say it. It was in his dark eyes, as they narrowed into slits. Reggie chuckled again, clenching his fist. The light fizzled out. ‘Do you really think you freaks were the first?’ He shook his head. When Jughead took a step forwards, Reggie yanked Kevin to stand straighter. ‘Use your mind-tricks on me, Jones, and I’ll fry him.’ Jughead didn’t move.

‘Luke n-needs him.’ He growled, wincing as he spat the words out. ‘He’s the f- fifth co- connection.’ Reggie grinned.

‘Wow, they really did a number on you, didn’t they Juggie? Can you recite the alphabet?’ Jughead didn’t say anything. Though Kevin saw the frustration, the anger and pain flash in his eyes. Then Kevin could only think of one thing. _Fifth Connection_.

‘What is that?!’ Kevin found his voice, and it rasped from his dry lips. ‘What are you talking about? Let me go!’ he moaned, trying to struggle from Reggie’s grip.

Reggie chuckled. ‘You tell him, Jug!’ he smirked at the other boy, cocking his head. ‘Oh wait, yeah! You _can’t_ can you?’ he teased.

‘Reggie, that’s enough.’ A voice sliced through the boy’s laughter, and both Reggie and Jughead turned their heads to see the man from earlier. Kevin’s heart sunk. Standing with Archie. The man had his arms wound around the boy, pulling him close. But this time the red-head seemed to fully comprehend his surroundings. Kevin could have sobbed in relief. That was _his_ Archie. The boy standing, looking horrified.

Gone was the submissive blank glare in his eyes, replaced by his usual deer-in-the-headlights look as he stared right at Kevin, but to his surprise, the boy didn’t yell or cry- he didn’t utter a word. He only struggled violently, his lips popping open as if he was screaming and swearing. But no sound came out. Kevin felt Reggie’s grip tighten around him and he could only stare at Archie, who was gazing back at him, brown eyes wide. _‘Kevin?’_ a sudden voice seemed to stream into his head, engulfed in a stream of what sounded like radio static. It was- it was Archie. Kevin tried to bring his hands up to his ears to block out the noise- the crackling and hissing, but Reggie kept a firm hold of his shoulders, forcing his arms down.

‘Ah, Mr Keller. Meet and Archie and Jughead!’ The man grabbed Jughead, yanking the boy to his side along with Archie like he was a proud father. The two of them struggled against his grip. ‘Two of my NG children.’ He smirked a little. ‘Mr Mantle is of my father’s creation.’ Though Kevin didn’t register the man’s words, his mind whirling. Archie’s voice was in his head. Rooted into his skull like it meant to be there.

‘Archie?’ he managed to find his voice, hissing at the red-head. ‘How- how the hell are you doing that?!’

Reggie seemed to be enjoying himself. ‘Yeah, Archie! How _are_ you doing that?’ Kevin noticed both Archie and Jughead winced. The red-head turned to Reggie, then the man. His eyes were pleading. Kevin started to tremble. The static in his head turned his stomach. Archie’s voice hissed in his ear, crawled into his consciousness and leached onto his every thought.

 _‘Luke.’_ He growled. Kevin bowed his head, gritting his teeth. Stop. He wanted to sob. The voice was too much. It hurt him even more knowing it wasn’t coming from his friend’s lips. Like it was supposed to. _‘I’ll do whatever you want. Just...just let him go.’_

Jughead was glaring at the man, and it looked like he too, was communicating with his mind.

Though the man just shook his head. ‘Sorry, boys.’ He smirked at Kevin, and the hairs on his back stood on end. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. Your friend has exactly what we need. He’s our Phoenix.’

‘I’m _what_?’ Kevin whispered. He slowly started to struggle once more. His movements going from jerking whips of his head and arms, to full-blown panic as he kicked his legs and tried to throw himself backwards. But Reggie only squeezed his shoulders tighter. ‘Stop fighting, Keller.’ He growled.

‘ _Kevin, I’m sorry.’_ Archie moaned. Kevin could only lock eyes with the red-head as the boy could only stare helplessly at him. Kevin wanted to scream at him. _Why aren’t you speaking?_ He wanted to slam his fists into Archie’s chest and pound relentlessly until he was sobbing against the boy’s torso. But Archie was ragged backwards like a doll. ‘ _Get the fuck off me!’_ he cried in Kevin’s skull, and Kevin could only stare, dumfounded, as his missing friend, Archie Andrews, was dragged back into the White transit, by a man he could only label as a monster. ‘ _Kev, run!’_ Archie cried in his head. But his voice was fading, like a signal going out of range. Except the shutters didn’t close. Jughead turned back to Reggie, raising a palm shakily. ‘L- let him go.’

Reggie snorted. ‘What are you gonna do, Jug?’ He tapped his temple with a smirk. ‘Why don’t you communicate with your fellow freaks and find out?’

Kevin watched Jughead’s expression falter slightly, all the fight go from his eyes. The man nodded promptly, having returned from capturing Archie. ‘As I thought, Mr Jones.’ He muttered, before Jughead got the same treatment as the red-head. The man grabbed him around his chest and hauled him away.

‘ _Are you hearing me?!’_ Archie screeched into his skull. Loud enough to bring him to his knees. The boy’s voice hit every nerve in his body. Kevin would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Reggie keeping a grasp on him. _‘Just run!’_

Kevin tried. He really did. He kicked and screamed, varying in way’s to try and get away. As Reggie was dragging him, he forced his trainers into the concrete, but he was only lifted up, his struggling legs whacking the edge of the van’s entrance. The word _help_ was on his lips, tickling the back of his throat. But something told him nobody was coming. He felt hopelessness slide into him. _No wonder they couldn’t find any leads_.

‘Welcome to the Stitching programme, Keller.’ Reggie murmured in his ear, and Kevin could only wrestle helplessly as he too was hoisted from the ground, flailing, before being thrust into darkness. Kevin hit the metal flooring, hands first, thrusting his head up as he stumbled, trying to adjust to the darkness.

‘Archie?’ He whimpered, pawing around in the pitch dark. ‘Jughead?!’ But there was only silence.

‘Ooh, and by the way?’ Reggie popped his head inside, and Kevin twisted around, diving forwards to escape, but he slammed into something- something invisible. Reggie grinned at him. ‘That red-head you were with? She’s hot.’

‘Let-‘ Kevin’s voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. ‘Let me out!’ He pounded his fists into thin air. Except it wasn’t thin air. There was something _there_.

‘D-dad!’ he tried one last ditch effort, trying to throw himself through the barrier. But he was only bounced back, falling onto his ass.

Reggie shook his head and grabbed hold of the shutters, about to yank them down, trapping him inside. Trapping him inside the dark. Kevin’s mind was on overdrive. _Where were Jughead and Archie?_

Kevin could only stare helplessly as the shutters were yanked down, and he was left alone in the small space. His breathing quickened as he swallowed a scream clawing up his throat. He was suddenly thinking of Donatello. Betty’s figurine. Vanishing in his hands. Bile crawled up his throat as he scanned the darkness, his breath shaking. Had Archie and the missing Southside kid been another trick? _Another trap?_

Kevin started to sob. He tipped backwards when the van’s engines rumbled as the vehicle thrust forwards. He ended up falling on his knees and squeezing his head into his lap, strangled cries silently crying out for his father. For Cheryl, for Archie and Jughead and- oh god. His chest tightened with the familiar feeling of loss filling him, making him scream harder into his lap. He was never going to his dad again. He felt a rush of fear stream through him, envelope him, take him over, as the realization hit him. _I’m going to die._

‘Kev.’ A sudden voice murmured. So familiar, so sweet and reassuring. A voice he had been craving for so long. A voice he thought was dead and gone. Therapists had told him to try and let go, his father hadn’t said it, but it had been in his eyes. He thought he would never see her again. He felt her hand grasp blindly for his, and then she was grabbing him, wrapping her arms around him as he felt himself melt into her chest. He didn’t speak, only burying his head in her shoulder and letting himself finally fall apart.

Betty.


	6. Amnesia/We need to talk about Kevin.

* * *

Cheryl Blossom frowned at the blank monitor, her green eyes flickering as she watched the NO SIGNAL banner bounce in a frenzied motion around the screen. Reggie stood behind her, his arms folded, as he too stared, baffled, at the blank screen.

‘Is there anything you can do?’ She turned to face the boy, her lip curled, eyes set in determination. Reggie shook his head, the light from the monitor gleaming in his eyes.

‘I don’t think so,’ he muttered. His gaze was suddenly on her. ‘I have no idea what’s going on.’ He scratched his head with a sigh. Cheryl nodded promptly.

‘What a waste of time,’ she breathed, her eyes still on the screen as if she was expecting it to miraculously come to life. Reggie nodded, chuckling a little.

‘What’s the matter with your friend?’ He asked, turning to look at her. ‘He looked pretty fragile.’ She shrugged.

‘He just misses them,’ she murmured. Reggie nodded. ‘The north-side kids, right?’ he asked. She nodded. Her gaze strayed to the screen for a minute longer before she snapped out of it, jerking away and shaking her head dismissively. ‘I should go and see if he’s okay.’ She didn’t realize her voice was shaking. Cheryl bit her lip. Maybe she really was crazy, maybe the Andrews boy yelling into her head was nothing but budding signs of psychosis. Cheryl sighed, turning away from the flickering monitor. ‘I’m gonna go get him,’ she said before forcing a smile at the boy who turned suddenly, his gaze seeming to darken. ‘Thanks for trying,’ she mumbled before taking a few steps backwards, heading to the door.

‘Hey, hold up.’ Reggie turned, reaching out for her. Cheryl scoffed, pulling away.

‘Hands off, Blue Lagoon,’ she smirked a little, unsure as to whether he would understand the movie reference. ‘If you’re making a move, it’s a bad time.’ Reggie’s lip curled.

‘Really?’ He cocked an eyebrow, leaning in close. She could smell the pot on his breath. In any other circumstances, the smell might draw her to him. After all, there was nothing she liked more than a bad boy. Though this was a different Riverdale, a Riverdale where two of her classmates and a Southside kid had disappeared; and it was starting to nag at her. Maybe they were dead. Cheryl hadn’t really had time to let the situation register in her head. There were no leads. No suspects. Nothing. They were just....gone. Cheryl swallowed, nodding. She was crazy. Archie’s voice wasn’t real and she’d given Kevin Keller hope, and then ripped it away. She needed a drink. Something fucking strong.

‘Yeah. _Bad time_ ,’ she said sourly. She pushed past him, heading for the door. ‘Thanks for the help.’

‘Hey, I can get him,’ Reggie offered quickly. He followed her to the door, grabbing the handle before she could grasp for it. ‘Stay here, okay?’ His lips stretched into a reassuring smile but Cheryl noticed a hint of desperation in his eyes, as if he was trying to keep her from seeing something. She surveyed him with a perplexed frown before rolling her eyes.

‘I’m good, Mantle,’ she muttered before going to tug the handle but Reggie was suddenly breathing down her neck, and his ice-cold breath made her shiver. She felt his hands suddenly grasping onto her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. ‘Hey!’ She hissed, twisting around to meet his smile.

‘Like I said,’ his eyes glinted, lips curving into a smirk, ‘I’ll go and get him.’ There was something about his voice, a cold steely tint in his tone, that made Cheryl’s gut twist. She narrowed her eyes at the boy, her lip twisting into snarl.

‘Can you let me out of this fucking room?’ She spat. She was starting to get claustrophobic and something told her Kevin wasn’t merrily waiting outside for her. Reggie’s smirk grew into a grin that she no longer trusted. He had a hold of the door handle and pressed his index finger to his lips.

‘Stay here,’ He murmured, leaning closer. ‘Got it?’ Cheryl’s heart skipped a beat.

‘What? No!’ She hissed, lunging forwards to follow him out the door. Her heart was in her throat as Reggie pushed her into the shelf. She swallowed a cry when her spine hit the metal edge but she was quickly recovering, throwing herself at the door, as the boy yanked it open with a chuckle. ‘Let me out!’ She screeched but Reggie was already slipping through the crack, slamming the door behind her. ‘Hey!’ Cheryl was trembling as she slammed her fists into the metal of the door. Her heart twisted when she heard the **click** of the lock. Though she still tried the handle, yanking at it relentlessly. ‘Mantle, I swear to God, open this fucking door!’ Cheryl cried. but her voice choked on the last word. The realization slammed into her the second the thought strayed in the back of her mind. Reggie. The store clerk- Jughead’s friend. He was in on it? Cheryl felt bile crawl up her throat as she searched for her phone, patting her jeans pocket, then her jacket- then her jeans again. It was gone. Cheryl let out a hiss of frustration, tears brimming on her lashes. ‘Did you- did you have something to do with this?!’ she cried, slamming her fists into the door; and then she thought of Kevin, her heart vaulting into her throat. ‘Kevin!’ She tried again, her voice bordering on hysteria; ‘Kevin, call the police!’ Reggie’s sudden laugh surprised her as it echoed outside. She stumbled away from the door, breathing hard.

‘Me?’ He chortled. ‘Have something to do with those rich kid’s disappearances?’ His laugh startled her. ‘Never!’ The dick was being sarcastic. When she didn’t reply his voice sounded again. ‘Watch the footage, Cheryl.’ Cheryl felt shivers crawl down her spine. _What?_ She stopped throwing herself into the door, battering the rough metal and found herself turning slowly towards the TV monitor. She swallowed harshly, her throat felt like sandpaper. That was when the TV monitor seemed to come back to life, flashing a bright, tantalizing blue light. Cheryl took a shaky step forwards towards the monitor, her heart hammering. Her green eyes suddenly glued to the screen which was no longer black. Instead, it was split into four screens, and upon closer inspection, she realized it was the store. Different parts of it, split into each mini screen.

Cheryl’s gaze darted to the time stamp at the top of the screen, her gut twisting into knot.

**15/08/2017**

Cheryl squinted, taking another wary step towards the monitor. She wrapped her arms around her chest, peering at the screen. It took her a few seconds to figure out what she was looking at. Hadfield’s. The store. On the date Jughead Jones disappeared. On the bottom screen was a wide shot of the main counter where a boy in the same blue polo shirt Reggie had been wearing. There was no sound but she could just about tell what was happening. There was a long queue. Businessman carrying bottles of water, a group of teenagers hoarding candy bars. The footage was black and white but she could make out the glare of the sun coming from the roof skylight. Cheryl glanced at another shot, this time situated on the right hand side of the screen. There was a man at the front of queue. He looked like a redneck. Red hair sprouted from his mostly bald head and a scowl was on his face as his mouth popped open and shut; he seemed to be shouting.

Cheryl exhaled shakily, squeezing her arms tighter around her chest. Goosebumps prickled over her arms. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the kid behind the desk. He was stocky with dark hair spilling from a knitted beanie, his lips twisted into an irritated grimace as he glared at the man. There was a laptop open in front of him. Jughead Jones. Cheryl’s throat went dry. She’d recognise that beanie anywhere. There were hundreds of photo’s of him plastered around Riverdale. Stuck on lampposts, road signs, anywhere where you could physically stick a missing poster. Cheryl stared at the footage, watching as Jughead, who was clearly uncomfortable, seemed to be trying to calm the man down. Cheryl wasn’t exactly good at lip reading, but the way Jughead was speaking, his lips curved the words perfectly as he seemed to be losing his patience. It was almost too easy to tell what he was saying.

‘ _Don’t you get it?’_ Cheryl couldn’t help mouthing the words along with the boy as he seemed to finally explode at the customer. The redneck recoiled slightly before folding his arms. He didn’t say anything but Cheryl wasn’t looking at the man anymore. She watched the boy, Jughead Jones, as his eyes widened suddenly; his attention snapping from the man. He looked up, his gaze scanning the queue of customers. Cheryl frowned, cocking her head. _What was he looking for?_ She followed the boy’s gaze as he scrutinized each and every person in the line. He looked- annoyed. Though there was a glimpse of intrigue in his eyes as if he- heard something. Cheryl leaned forward, peering closer at the flickering screen. Her gaze danced between each perspective shot, and she was just about to look at the main screen, when... _wait._

Cheryl straightened up, frowning as she squinted at the screen from the perspective of the door’s security camera’s. There were three figures standing in the chilled food section, directly facing the cameras. Cheryl recognized Reggie automatically, dressed in a that same blue cotton polo shirt with a grin plastered on his face. He looked to be talking to someone; a man in khaki’s and a white shirt.

‘No way..’ she murmured, narrowing her eyes at the screen. Another kid she recognized, but seeing him made her feel weak. Her gut twisted. How could she not recognise that flaming red hair? It was Archie Andrews. Kevin Keller’s best friend; the missing kid who had disappeared at least a month before this was even recorded. Except there he was, standing in Hadfield’s. The man in the khaki’s had hold of his arm and he kept pulling away, his face screwed up in discomfort. _Kidnapper_. The word hit Cheryl and she understood. The man holding him, yanking violently on him like he was an unruly child- was his kidnapper.

_Reggie Mantle was there too_. He seemed to be in deep conversation with the man as Archie pulled and yanked on the man’s arm but to no avail. Eventually, the man seemed to get annoyed with the boy before letting him go and prodding his finger in the direction down the aisle. Cheryl watched, nausea getting the better of her as Archie shook his head a _no_ before taking a shaky step back and folding his arms defiantly. It was weird seeing Archie like this. Cheryl only knew him as the Junior Varsity football captain. The cute ginger sophomore who tripped over his feet in the hallways, who had won the hearts of most of Riverdale the night he disappeared… when he sung in the talent show. But the Archie on the footage, he almost scared her with the look on his face. It was pure terror- rational fear. Every so often he’d glance at the camera, his eyes wide, lips parted in what looked like a cry for help. Cheryl’s eyes were stinging. _Did nobody see this?_

Cheryl couldn’t help it. She knew the tape was months old, that it had already happened but her heart was hammering. Her chest ached for the boy who was clearly under the man’s control. Cheryl wondered, with a sick feeling, if Betty had been used as a scare tactic, as a manipulation, and was collateral damage. _No._ Cheryl cursed herself. _You can’t think like that!_

‘Run, Archie!’ She hissed, her gaze glued to the screen but to her disappointment; Archie didn’t run. Instead, he hung his head before retreating down the aisle where the man was pointing, and eventually, back out of shot. Cheryl found herself lunging towards the VCR player, her fingers prodding ancient buttons as she desperately tried to find the REWIND button. She glanced back at the screen, her chest tightening. Reggie had appeared behind Jughead at the front desk with his trademark smile and to what looked like Jughead’s relief, he was dealing with the rowdy man, who backed away out of the store, into the parking lot. ‘Come on!’ Cheryl pleaded. She prodded the buttons relentlessly until finally, the footage jumped forwards. This time Jughead Jones was halfway to the back-room, arm out-stretched, ready to yank it open. He looked relieved as he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. Cheryl stared hard at the footage, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, when she saw him. Archie. Standing a few feet away, drenched in the sun’s shadow.

The two boys didn’t know each-other. Archie was North-side, Jughead- South. Cheryl studied the footage, eyes wide. Her heart was in her throat. She wanted to yell for Kevin, to attack the door and demand to be let out. But here it was. Right in front of her. The answer to the questions the people of Riverdale had been asking for two months; what had happened to Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper, and Jughead Jones? Cheryl’s gaze flickered as the crackly footage panned out in what felt like slow motion. Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones, facing each -other. Jughead looking surprised, and Archie, his eyes filled with fear and dread.

 _She was about to find out._ Cheryl anticipated their next move. _What had the man told Archie to do?_ Her head was spinning with all kinds of possibilities. Jughead must have been his next victim. Her stomach somersaulted. Was Archie a trap? It took a moment for Jughead to notice him; the boy seemed to acknowledge Archie at the corner of his eye. Cheryl watched the red head slowly make his way over, warily. His expression was blank. Jughead saw him and automatically, his irritated scowl morphed into an amused smirk.

 _Uh, Hey!_ Jughead smiled at the boy, folding his arms. Cheryl wanted to look away. She’d recognize that look anywhere. Interest. Jughead seemed to be swiping his gaze up and down Archie’s frame, his lips curling into a smirk while Archie stood there frozen, his eyes comically wide. Cheryl could practically hear what must have been a one-sided conversation - because Archie’s mouth didn’t open once. He only continued his creepy stare which must have thrown the boy off. Jughead started to frown, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. He turned his head, as if looking for hidden cameras, his sudden paranoid frown at the camera making Cheryl’s stomach turn. Jughead opened his mouth to speak, though warily. His gaze pinpointed on Archie as if waiting for the boy to burst out crying or break down. _Okay, if you’re here for something, ask my manager, or my colleague-_

Cheryl frowned when Archie suddenly staggered backwards, his mouth opening. Though Cheryl couldn’t tell what he said. Jughead seemed to be equally confused. His eyes widened. _Whoa, Hey! I’m not going to eat you!_

She started to rewind the footage once more, and on fast-forward, it seemed like the two boys were just standing there for at least five minutes. Jughead talking, seemingly trying to reassure the red head. Cheryl tried to find a frame when Archie was speaking or moving his mouth but she couldn’t. Every single time she paused the tape, Archie was only staring back at Jughead with a look of panic that the South-side boy couldn’t seem to understand. Cheryl growled to herself and stopped the clip for a second, just as the two of them had neared each-other. This time Archie was frozen, his gaze directly on Jughead; his mouth was open and he _was_ speaking. Except Jughead only stared back at him, his expression creasing with confusion.

Cheryl clicked forward again, her hands were shaking. She glared at the screen, at every frame, every snapshot, until... _There!_ She hit STOP so fast her fingernail caught on the lousy pause button. But she barely noticed. Instead, her attention was stuck to the grainy footage. She was desperate. _Was she crazy? Could Archie really talk into her head? And was this-_ Cheryl leaned so far forward she could feel the static from the monitor prickling against her forehead. Her heart pounded against her chest. _Proof?_

The man from earlier on in the tape. Cheryl sucked in a breath. He had appeared, grabbing onto Archie as if the red head was his son. The look on Jughead’s face. Confusion and wariness as Archie repeatedly tried to get away but the man’s grip was strong. _I don’t think he wants to go with you._ Jughead took a step forward, with his palm outstretched. The man looked amused and Archie, he looked hopeful. Jughead was asking for the man’s ID. The man looked more than happy to pull out his driving licence and show it to Jughead but Archie maintained the same look on his face. He stared directly at the boy, his eyebrows creasing, lip quivering. He was... _concentrating._

Cheryl skipped the tape again- the man eventually grabbed hold of Archie, tugging him away, back through the store and out into the searing heat. Jughead stood there for a few seconds, before being approached by- Cheryl hissed out a breath. _Reggie_. Jughead looked distressed as he made wacky hand gestures to the other boy, gesturing his hand to the doorway, his expression alert and frightened. Reggie looked to be humouring him. Cheryl narrowed her eyes at the still of Reggie, smirking sceptically. He knew exactly what was going on. He had been with their kidnapper.

Cheryl realized it must have been exactly here where Jughead had told him he could hear Archie in his head. Jughead had his head bowed, his arms folded against his chest. He suddenly grabbed hold of his co-workers shoulders, his expression wild. _Reggie I think I just....I think I just saw a boy being taken against his will._ Reggie was laughing at him, Cheryl realized. _Dude, I think you’ve had too much heat_.

Cheryl hit fast forward once again, rewinding through the rest of the conversation which looked like Reggie was sending the boy home. Just like he said. Cheryl stared at the screen, watching as Jughead seemed to agree before retreating out of the store into the parking lot - before going completely out of frame. Cheryl fiddled with the VCR, looking for a perspective of the parking lot but there was none. There was only the store. Then, she couldn’t help it, she rewound the tapes back to the exact moments Jughead and Archie left the store- Archie being yanked roughly by the mysterious man in khaki’s, and Jughead, running out, presumably, trying to save the red head. But there was nothing- no clues to suggest somebody else was in on it. Cheryl felt herself slump to the cold linoleum floor, defeated. She pulled her knees to her chest to stop herself from trembling and reached out, rewinding the tape one last time. Cheryl’s eyes flickered as she watched the whole thing again. She found herself watching the last frame of Jughead leaving the store repeatedly until there was a headache brewing behind her eyes. She was about to give up when something caught her eye.

‘Wait a sec,’ she murmured to herself, getting to her feet. Cheryl leaned close, peering at the black and white grain. She was looking at the very last time Jughead appeared as he made his way, practically stumbling, out of the main automatic doors. But just behind him by the main counter was Reggie staring after him. And someone else. Cheryl squinted. It was a man standing in what looked like a trench coat, both hands shoved in the pockets. He was turned away from the camera so Cheryl couldn’t see his face. The man was in deep conversation with Reggie and Cheryl hit fast-forward impatiently until the man finally glanced at the camera and Cheryl felt a scream clawing at her throat. She stumbled away from the monitor, her hand over her mouth, as she stared wide-eyed at the screen. The man talking to Reggie was… her father.

‘Dad?’ She tried to cry out but no sound came out. She was rushing over to the monitor, scrutinizing it from every angle, her heart in her throat. But there was no mistake. The man was Clifford Blossom.

 _He’s in on it_.

Cheryl felt sick. Her father had made a personal televised plea for the missing Riverdale teenagers to be returned safely. She had _held his hand_! Cheryl felt anger and resentment bubble up inside her. _And all this time he knew where they were._ Cheryl swiped at her eyes. When Kevin Keller was losing his mind and Fred Andrews and Alice Cooper were drowning their wills to live- he _knew_ where their kids were. _What was he doing to them?_ Cheryl thought back to the footage- Archie’s pained expression, his inability to speak. If he really was reaching out to her, why her? And _how_ was he speaking inside of her head?

Cheryl was trembling. She wandered over to the door, blindly, smashing her fist against the metal. Her body complained, fists tingling, muscles screaming. But she didn’t care.

‘I want-‘ her voice choked and she punched the door, battering it. Letting out all her anger, her confusion and pain. ‘I want to see my father!’ When there was no answer, she slammed her fists into the cold metal once more. 'Where's Kevin?' she demanded. 'I swear to god, if you touch him-' She startled at a sudden loud click and stumbled away from the door, the hand she previously had over her mouth shooting out to grab something- _anything_ from the shelf to defend herself with. She ended up grabbing an old sweeping brush sticking from a dusty column.

Cheryl took a deep, steady breath as she clutched the brush tighter. It wasn’t exactly the _best_ weapon. She gritted her teeth. But it would have to suffice. She braced herself for Reggie, mentally planning out her escape plan. She would slam the brush head as hard as possible, knocking him out, make a quick getaway. Get Kevin. Then the police. That’s all she cared about. Finding the Keller kid, and alerting his father. What if he had already been taken? The thought strayed in her mind and she shook it away, even if it seemed likely. Reggie had gone to capture Kevin. But why Kevin? Why Archie, Betty and Jughead in the first place? Cheryl stood frozen, her back stiff against the shelf as the door slowly creaked open, the noise making her cringe inwardly. She expected Reggie Mantle. His malicious grin and teasing eyes. But it wasn’t Reggie. Cheryl felt the handle of the brush slip from her grasp, landing with a gentle _crack_ on the floor. She swallowed audibly.

Surely she was seeing things.

 _Hallucinations._ Cheryl was on auto-pilot, her body trying to back away. But there was a shelf in the way _. Vivid hallucinations._ She thought, desperately. Weren’t they a symptom of psychosis? Because surely, she was seeing things. She idly turned her head, her eyes darting to the footage still in a grainy freeze-frame. Still paused on her father’s face, peering at the camera. Cheryl blinked rapidly, but the figure in the doorway didn’t disperse, or fade away. He stood straight, his expression blank, eyes blank- everything about him was vacant. Empty.

‘Archie?’ Cheryl stepped away from the shelf, and then she was clawing at her hair, tears were stinging her eyes. ‘Where-‘ she stumbled over her words as a flood of emotions hit her at once. _He wasn’t dead_. Relief flooded her. Even better; she wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t _speaking into her head_. She wanted to hit herself. How could she be so stupid? Did she really believe that a classmate of hers, just a kid in her year, was talking into her skull?

 _Yes._ Her mind muttered back. Cheryl ignored the voice, even if it seemed a little more persistent than normal

Archie Andrews, a kid she thought was dead and gone, was standing directly in front of her. It was unmistakably Archie. He still had his rich red hair plastered to his forehead. It was noticeably longer, almost falling in his eyes. Cheryl stared at him for a few seconds as he took a step forwards without taking his eyes off of her. Cheryl shivered. Tremors rattled down her spine. Archie padded into the room, before letting the door close behind him. Cheryl was lost for words. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she finally shrieked. Archie didn’t move. Cheryl took a moment to really take him in. Even if everything about him was freaking her the hell out. His skin was pale and grey, like he hadn’t seen sunlight in days. His hair looked unwashed- like he hadn’t seen a shampoo bottle in years. As for his expression. His teasing smile, flirty smirk he’d sometimes flash at her when he was doing his ‘bro walk’ down the school corridor, was gone. In its place was worse than she’d seen on the footage. Archie didn’t look like his old self. He didn’t even look like the version of him on the tape, where he’d looked traumatised. His eyes constantly wide open in a state of fear and a sense of hopelessness.

Except that’s not what he was now. He was neither. Cheryl lost her breath when she finally _looked_ at Archie. He had maintained the same expression, the same vacant look in his eyes. He wasn’t even breathing.

But the one thing that stood out to her was his clothes. She frowned at the one-layer ensemble which looked like hospital scrubs. Cheryl felt like laughing. She could feel the bubble of hysteria edging climbing up her throat. But she swallowed it down. ‘Archie?’ she found herself taking a wary step towards him, her hands already going to grab onto his hair, yank at strands spilling onto his forehead- just to see if he was real. _He was_. She expected him to flinch when she tugged at his hair, but his expression didn’t falter.

Cheryl took a step back. ‘Andrews.’ She said, and when he only continued to stare at her, she let out a hiss of frustration. ‘Snap out of it!’ she slapped him across the face, but once again- he didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. Cheryl stared, baffled. ‘Archie, hey! Hey, snap out of it!’ she grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him, her fear getting the better of her. ‘Do you know how many people are looking for you?’ she hissed in his face.

‘Archie, your dad!’ she cried. ‘Do you know how- how worried he is?’

She shook him again, this time ragging him violently by his hair. She was crying then, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Archie!’ she battered his chest, but he didn’t pull away or try and bat away her striking hits to his ribs. He only stood, completely unfazed. Cheryl gave up, then. ‘Okay, then.’ She said softly, wiping her nose and eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. She started towards the door. ‘I’m gonna go and get help.’

Cheryl was halfway to the door when she felt his arm wrap around hers. Tight. She whipped around, a screech building in her throat. ‘Get off!’ she tried to yank away, but the boy’s grip was suddenly harsh. His fingernails dug harshly into her wrist, and she had to bite back a cry. ‘Archie?’ was all she could manage, before a scream for help which died in her throat when Archie was grabbing her shoulders and yanking her to the floor. She couldn’t fight back, even if she wanted to. His lifeless expression and impossible physical strength terrified her.

Cheryl was forced to her knees, and the red headed boy knelt down, his brown eyes boring straight through her. Cheryl’s heart plummeted when he leaned forward. She could smell the antiseptic on his clothes. _Hospital_. She thought, suddenly. _He had been in hospital_. Cheryl tried to lean back, but the boy’s grip was impossible.

Cheryl squeaked when Archie pressed his fingers into her temples, and his eyes flickered shut. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she cried, trying to get up, trying to escape his death grip. But the more she struggled, the harder his fingers pressed into her temples. She winced at the pressure, and tried once more to yank her head away, but her skull stayed encased in his vice grip. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t move. Her knees were pressed into the lino, her arms limply at her sides.

And then she too closed her eyes, and it panicked her as soon as she did. She tried to open them, but they felt like they had been glued shut. ‘Archie, please,’ she whispered, desperately straining against his muscles.

But he didn’t make a sound. There was no hint of sympathy or empathy in his expression. It was a blank slate.

Then all she could do was gape as images flashed before her eyes, sequences she had tried to comprehend every moment she was awake- dragging Kevin Keller from therapy, Reggie Mantle. The footage. Archie. Every single flicker, every memory, seemed to drain away slowly, as if Archie was sucking them from her. It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. She tried to cry against the pain, but her lips were sewn shut.

Cheryl’s thoughts began to become incoherent, even when she tried to grasp for them and yank them back.

_I took Kevin from therapy- we- we met Reggie Mantle. The footage! Oh god, the footage! Archie and Jughead, my father! Archie Andrews is alive! Oh god, I think Kevin’s been taken. I – I..._

\- and then, everything began to fade. As she tried to remember whatever she’d forgotten, her brows knitted together as a splitting ache shot through her temples. ‘Archie,’ she breathed, tears stinging in her eyes, ‘stop.’ Whatever he was doing, it hurt...It hurt. Whatever he... was doing, it...it... hurt. Whatever he was doing, it-

Cheryl’s mind looped as she forgot her thoughts over and over again, her hands gripping Archie’s biceps as she continued to push him away - albeit, weakly. She managed to prise her eyes open, straining against him, as she leaned forward with her last strength. Whatever Archie was doing, it was knocking her out. She clung onto what mattered, repeating what she had seen over and over again in her head as she let out a cry, gripping hold of his arm, tearing at a patch- a..logo? on the elbow of his scrubs. Her mind was too foggy to figure out what it said. Thankfully, she managed to tear off a piece and stuff it into her jacket pocket, before she let her head tip backwards. She felt strands of her hair brush across her cheeks, she felt Archie’s breath on in her face, but it felt wrong...It felt like an intake of breath. A gasp, as he came back to life.

 _‘Cheryl?’_ A voice was suddenly in her head, and she knew it was his. Ha. So she wasn’t crazy after all. She recognized the worry, the pain and confusion. But the damage was already done. She was – she was falling.

Just before she felt herself slip into _nothing,_ her eyes blinked open and she could just about make out Archie’s expression as he peered down at her. Brown eyes wide in horror. He let go of her instantly, like he’d been grabbing a hot iron. She fell backwards, but he was quick to lunge forward, grabbing hold of her.

_‘No, no, Cheryl!’_ his voice cried out in her head. _‘You need to remember, do you hear- do you hear me?’_ Archie sounded like he was trying to fight against sobs clenching at his chest. But she was tired. She wanted to sleep.

‘ _Please!’_ Archie’s voice cried out. His voice was shaking, edging on hysteria. She felt something, like a mental wire, keeping her anchored to consciousness. Was he doing that? _‘Cheryl, you need to find us! You- you need to get my dad, get Kevin’s dad!’_

Mmm. Sure. When I wake up. Cheryl finally slipped into the dark to her relief, of the pain – of the – the what? What had she been doing again?

A foreign voice pierced the sudden silence, and his were the last words Cheryl heard. Definitely not Fred Andrews.

‘Nice work, Mr Andrews. Come along, son.’

* * *

When Cheryl drifted back to consciousness, there was a dull throbbing slowly etching its way across her forehead. She felt sick. Something strong was in her nose, an odour she couldn’t figure out. It made her think of....chlorine. The outdoor pool. Had she fallen asleep in the damn thing? She tried to grasp for a memory, but her mind was blank. Cheryl slowly sat up, going to scratch the back of her head. She was in bed, at home. When she looked down, she realized she was fully-dressed. She glanced out of her bedroom window, where the sky was a crystal blue. The sun poking over the horizon. Morning. She grimaced, leaning over and tugging her leather boots from her feet. Then she lay back, revelling in the warmth and cosiness of her large poster-bed. Cheryl stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the _smell_ , the _stink_ drifting into her nostrils.

What was that? She sniffed the air experimentally, but all she smelt was the familiar aroma of her bedroom. Was the smell her? She sniffed at her jacket, then grabbed strands of her hair, taking a huge whiff. But there was nothing. The smell was coming from somewhere else.

‘Cheryl?’ She jumped, when a familiar voice sounded from her bedroom doorway. She hadn’t realized the door was open. Jason was standing in his bathrobe, his red hair a straggly damp mess, plastered to her forehead. Cheryl stared at him, frowning a little. _Red hair_. There was something about it that made her feel uneasy. Her throat closed up, her chest tightening. Jason must have seen her expression, because his forehead crinkled with worry-lines. ‘Are you okay?’ he murmured. Cheryl wanted to say _no_. She was aching from head to toe, her head was throbbing, and she had absolutely no memory. But instead, she forced a smile.

‘Yeah. Course.’ She replied. Then her lips were prickling into a smile when one memory _did_ surface in her mind. ‘Are you excited about today?’ she asked, changing the subject. Jason was about to be named Varsity team captain, since the former captain, a kid who had disappeared....she winced when a slash of pain ripped its way through her skull.

Jason looked confused, his eyebrows pulling together. ‘Excited about what?’

Cheryl stared at him, and then laughed nervously. He was surely playing around with her. ‘Varsity?’ she giggled a little. ‘Coach is naming the new captain today, right?’

Jason frowned at her for a second. ‘That was yesterday, Cheryl.’ His words sent shivers through her. _Yesterday?_ She started to feel sick again. ‘What day is it?’ she whispered.

Jason cocked his head. ‘Lil sis, have you been drinking?’ he cocked an eyebrow. ‘Or worse?’ when she didn’t answer, he sighed. ‘Wednesday.’ He said, his expression growing more and more wary.

Cheryl gaped at him. ‘But- but how could I have-?’ she didn’t finish that sentence out loud. _How the hell had she blanked a whole day?_

Drinking. The word struck her mind, as if being planted there already. She had been hanging out with friends, smoking and drinking. And then passed out. _But for a whole day?_

‘Did I go in the pool on Monday?’ she asked, pulling her knees to her chest. She was fully dressed, still in her jacket. It felt scratchy against her skin. She felt disgusting. Gross. Even her hair, normally her best attribute, felt sticky and unclean. She needed a shower. Yes, a shower would solve all the problems. It would sooth her head, relax her joins, and maybe coax bits and pieces of her memory from the crevices of her mind. She realized what she had said, then. Even if she _had_ gone swimming in the pool, she wouldn’t reek of chlorine _now_.

Jason, still in the doorway, chuckled. He seemed to have perked up a bit, now he knew she was just suffering from a mighty hangover. ‘The pool?’ he smirked, running a hand through his damp curls. ‘I don’t think so. Why?’ Cheryl felt a pang in her chest. There it was again. Something about- something about his red-hair. Each and every strand as it stuck to his perspired forehead. She caught herself staring, and shook her head. What the hell was wrong with her? She shrugged, forcing another smile. ‘No, it’s okay, never mind.’ She sighed, rolling off her bed. The second her feet touched the floor, her head swam, and she had to grab the bed stand for support. ‘Cheryl?’ Jason, now sounding worried, was suddenly beside her, grabbing her shoulders, gently. She flinched at his touch. Strong arms holding her, supporting her. Something about Jason seemed remarkably familiar. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. She pushed away, nodding. But her eyes were stinging for some reason. Just _looking_ at Jason made her stomach roll.

‘I’m fine!’ She snapped, swiping at her eyes. Was she crying? She shoved Jason away, straightening up. Blossom’s never cried. But she was shivering. Her head was aching, and her brother- her _brother_ seemed to be making it worse. She could still smell _it._ That strong smell of chlorine that felt like it was drowning her senses. She could taste it on her tongue, feel it on her skin. Goosebumps prickled on her arms and she wrapped them around her chest, hugging them tighter.

‘I said I’m fine.’ She turned away from him so he couldn’t see the tears trailing down her cheeks. ‘I’m just not feeling well.’ She said simply. Jason scoffed. ‘No, Cheryl, you’re pale. Here, just let me-‘ he tried to grab her gently, turn her around, but she flinched, one again. His grip felt too tight, suddenly, like a vice clamped around her bicep. She felt... _fingernails_ digging harshly into her skin.

‘Get off me!’ she hissed, ripping her arm away. She was breathing hard, her throat was dry, her stomach doing somersaults. Except Jason didn’t grip tighter, his touch fell away.

‘Cheryl, what is it?’ Jason turned her around, gently. He peered at her, his expression twisted with concern. ‘You can tell me anything. You do know that, right?’

Cheryl nodded. Her throat felt clogged with emotion. ‘I’m fine,’ she forced another smile. But even she could tell it was fake. Jason looked like he might argue, but he sighed, straightening up. ‘I’ll tell mom you’re not well enough for school.’ He murmured. He retreated back to the door.

Cheryl nodded, slumping back onto her bed. ‘Okay.’ She mumbled. All she wanted right then, was to collapse back into bed. But something was nagging at her. Right at the back of her head, something was crying out. Cheryl rubbed absently at her forehead and climbed back into bed, sitting up against the mountain of pillows. She found her self staring around her own room, as if was alien to her. Cheryl leant comfortably against the pillows, closing her eyes against the permanent headache pummelling her skull.

She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Jason. His image stuck in her head, but she was trying to get _past_ that, at something _else._ But no matter how hard she pressed against the barrier, nothing came through. Cheryl’s stomach was twisting into knots. The smell- the stink of chlorine was still stagnant in the air. She couldn’t get away from it. She tried rolling over and pressing her face into her pillows, but somehow it got _worse_. Finally, she sat up, frustrated, and plunged her hands into her pockets. Surely there was _something_ causing the smell. She tugged out candy wrappers, her chapstick and phone from one pocket, and a scrunched up piece of paper, her lip-gloss and –

The smell grew stronger the second she pulled it from her pocket. It stung at her nose, climbing into her nostrils. Cheryl stared hard at the rag in her hand. It stunk of- chlorine and antiseptic. Cheryl recognized the smell automatically. Hospital. It stunk like a hospital.

She peered at the cloth. It looked like a tear of clothing. Had she ripped it from someone? It was light blue scratchy material that she wouldn’t be seen dead in. But it seemed familiar. She could almost imagine herself angrily ripping it from someone. She frowned, peering at it. She felt stupid. Taking such interest in a scrap of clothing. But it triggered something in her memory. The smell, the touch....she crinkled it between her fingers, scratching her nails against the fabric.

‘Cheryl Blossom, You’ve officially lost it.’ She murmured to herself. But for some reason she didn’t take her eyes from the rag. As stubborn as her mind was, telling her to just throw it away- something rooted deep inside her told her to keep it. To look closer.

And then there was something that caught her eye. She peered closer. Etched across the cloth were block letters. She frowned, her eyebrows creasing together. A logo?

GENCARE. The name rung a bell. Wasn’t that a dentistry just outside of Riverdale? She murmured the name to herself softly, continuing to peer at the rag, as if answers would suddenly appear in her mind. Answers to why it was in her pocket in the first place. Why she had blanked a whole damn day. She jumped suddenly when her jeans pocket vibrated, and it look a few seconds for her to realize it was her phone. She dropped the cloth with a hiss, pulling it from her pocket.

The screen hurt her eyes. Cheryl winced, staring at a plethora of missed calls and messages. Mostly from Josie. She tapped RING BACK on her friend’s name, and pressed the phone to her ear. Josie answered on the first ring. Cheryl opened her mouth to say something but the girl was already yelling down the phone. It sounded like she had been crying. Her voice kept breaking.

‘’ It's Kevin, Cheryl!’ The girl cried down the phone. The line was crackling, and Cheryl swallowed a groan when pain continued to pound relentlessly against her skull. ‘What about him?’ she mumbled, pressing a palm against her sweaty forehead. Maybe she was getting sick.

‘First Archie and Betty, and now Kevin, Cheryl!’ the girl sounded like she was in hysterics. ‘How- how can this be happening, huh? How the fuck can this be happening?!’

Cheryl sat up in bed. Her stomach clenched. ‘What?’ she hissed. ‘Josie, what’s wrong?’

‘Kevin didn't go home last night. Nobody's seen him since lunch, yesterday.’ Cheryl could hear the girl’s gritted teeth. ‘He’s gone, Cheryl! Just like the others! He’s fucking gone, and he’s-' Her voice broke. ‘He’s not coming back is he?’

Cheryl’s head was spinning. She was about to answer, when her mother appeared in the doorway, looking flustered. ‘Cheryl, honey. The police want to talk to you.’

Cheryl stared at her mother for a long while, before nodding, and ending the call with Josie. Her legs were shaking as she made her way down the spiral staircase. Every step caused an explosion of pain behind her eyes. When she made it to the doorway, she was sure she was going to collapse. Cheryl stared. Sheriff Keller was standing on the threshold, his face red, eyes dark and bloodshot. Cheryl’s gut flipped over. Kevin Keller’s dad. Josie had said he just gone missing. Just like-

Her head pounded again, and she winced, forcing a nervous smile. ‘Sheriff.’ She said weakly. Her eyes widened when she saw another man standing next to him. The school therapist.

Sheriff Keller cleared his throat. She didn’t even think he was looking at her. Helooked stiff. ‘Miss Blossom.’ He looked like he was trying to sound professional, except his voice was choking. ‘Your school councillor, Mr Stevenson, has told us you were the last person to see my son-‘ he bowed his head a little, sniffing loudly. ‘Kevin Keller.’ He corrected himself.

Cheryl frowned. ‘What?’ She stared at the two of them. Her mouth went dry. ‘I-‘ she caught herself. _Had_ _she been the last person to see Kevin?_ She couldn’t remember a thing. But saying that would raise suspicion. ‘I’m sorry,’ she swallowed harshly. But something was nagging at her, pushing against the mental barrier in her head. It was screaming to be let out.

Cheryl forced back the overwhelming urge to tell them both about the cloth in her pocket- But her heart skipped. _Was that from Kevin? Why the hell would he be wearing what felt like hospital scrubs?_ Pain continued to prickle across her forehead. What about the other missing kids? The ones Josie had mentioned? Had she completely blanked seeing them? Seeing Kevin?

Cheryl wanted to say all of those things but ended up choking; ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Sheriff Keller flushed. ‘Look, kid,’ he growled. ‘Five kids are missing, my son included.’ He seemed to steel himself, inhaling and exhaling softly. ‘Doctor Stevenson says you were the last person to see Kevin, so if we could ask you a few questions-‘

Cheryl felt herself shrink at his tone, and then wanted to hit herself. She wasn’t supposed to be like this! Where was her attitude? Her thirst for drama?

She felt a sudden presence by her side, and relief flooded her. Clifford Blossom smiled politely at both Sheriff Keller and the Doctor. He folded his arms, glaring at the two of them.

‘If my daughter says she has nothing to do with it,’ he spoke calmly. ‘Then she has nothing to do with it.’

Cheryl nodded lamely along with her father's words, but her heart was pounding. She felt dizzy. 

_Did she have something to do with it, though?_


	7. Banshee

* * *

_As the moon at midnight moves_

_Out there in the bog land the banshee’s shrill cry_

_The one seldom heard and that human eyes cannot see_

_Some day the ghost of the one who died in agony.’_

‘ _Have you done it yet?’_ Archie’s voice seemed to float inside his head, as if the boy knew _exactly_ how to push his buttons. Jughead groaned but he didn’t let go. He felt his ability like a physical entity, like a strong wire reaching out and hovering over the blocky keypad sealing him inside his cell. _Come on_. Jughead glared at the pebble he had managed to salvage; it had been on the floor in the testing room when they had taken him for a check up. He’d grabbed it by quickly swiping his hand, coaxing it so the pebble slowly lifted into the air before shooting into his awaiting palm. Now the pebble was suspended in mid-air as he held it with everything he had, scathing the keypad. He had dropped it a number of times before but he kept that to himself. Somehow, he was absolutely fine with throwing a human being backwards in a whirlwind but holding a pebble with his mind was harder than he thought. He had to fully concentrate, he had to channel everything into his mental grasp.

Jughead had promised himself from day one of his Stitching that he would never use his powers. They weren’t natural. They had taken away his humanity; his freedom. He’d hated them, _despised_ them; they had transformed him into a freak of nature. In the few days post-Stitching, Jughead had to be sedated multiple times, just like his emotions; his powers had been out of control. In one incident, he had catapulted a nurse halfway across the testing room when she had tried to stick a needle in his arm.

Jughead hated what he had become and he hated that it wasn’t something he could suppress or forget about; it was a part of him now which meant he was also part of _them._ The three entities that had nestled into his skull, emitting powerful signals that kept him awake. No matter how hard he tried, he would never really be alone ever again. Whether it was Archie’s melancholic singing, Veronica’s ranting or Betty’s sobbing. Jughead had realised after some time that he had to stop pushing them away. Sure, he was angry; upset; confused. He was so many emotions and they engulfed him, constantly overwhelming his broken brain.

It was Kevin Keller that had brought him out of it; making him realise that maybe, just _maybe_ , he could escape using the same fucked up powers that had been forced upon him.. After all, he had managed to knock Luke out back outside the supermarket. Jughead would have been able to save Kevin if it hadn’t have been for Reggie Mantle. He tried not to think about Reggie; after all, the boy had been a classmate, a friend… and the reason why he was taken in the first place.

Reggie had wasted no time explaining that it was him who recommended Jughead because of his _intelligence_. His “way with words.” Both of them were now non-existent. Yes, Jughead had the ability to levitate objects with his mind and throw people ten feet behind them - but he could no longer interpret words like other people, like _before_. it was so normal, so easy, for any average human being but Luke… Luke had taken that away from him- the one thing that made him feel like he actually mattered. Words had been everything to him. They were an escape from reality, a doorway into the imagination of worldwide talent but mostly, they were a way in which he could express himself.

And now Jughead couldn’t read. His brain had been rewired and messed up beyond repair, now every word, every phrase he came across presented itself in a blur. He stared at the keypad but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t decipher the numbers. Thank God he could still remember the usual template layout; the first line 123, second was 456, third; 789 and 0 at the very bottom. Betty was using her Clairvoyance to look for the code. It had surprised him when she had said that she could sometimes access Luke’s mind when he was vulnerable or caught off guard, and now she was desperate enough to dig deeper; Betty was going to prevent Kevin’s stitching, even if it meant barging into a psychopath's mind.

‘ _Betty?’_ Jughead asked, reaching out for her in his mind. ‘ _Have you got it?’_ Her reply came automatically, as if she was anticipating his question.

 _‘I’m trying,’_ she said softly. Jughead felt the emotion in her voice, the thickness in her tone. ‘ _It’s okay.’_ He murmured. ‘ _Take your time, Betty.’_

‘ _Jug?’_ Archie’s voice crackled slightly in his head and Jughead winced from the feedback. The pebble slanted like it was going to fall but he grasped tighter on it. _Stay_. He commanded, mentally. Archie’s voice was really starting to get on his nerves. _‘Are you nearly done?’_

‘ _Betty doesn’t have the code yet, dummy,’_ Veronica murmured, her voice silky and smooth. It was a relief and Jughead almost revelled in it; Betty and Archie were tense and snappy. Impatient – and driving him crazy. Then again, how could he blame them? Kevin Keller was hours from being Stitched and they were all locked up like animals.

‘ _I didn’t know that, Ronnie.’_ Archie’s voice had a slight edge, a iciness to it that Jughead suddenly wanted to block out. Veronica was clearly in an antagonising mood.

 _‘Well, learn to listen then, Archiekins,’ s_ he shot back, Jughead could hear the smile in her voice. He winced and resisted the urge to roll his eyes; it wasn’t like any of them could see him though. He gritted his teeth, not taking his eyes from the keypad stuck to his cell door. His goal was to use his psychic ability, his reluctant gift of telekinesis, to try and crack the code on the door by using the pebble as his fingers since his wrists had been tightly bound behind his back. Jughead risked a deep breath, relaxing slightly against the ropes that coiled around his wrists, chafing against his skin. He was sat cross legged in the exact same position Luke had left him in earlier; ever since Kevin had been brought to the facility, Luke had made sure all four of them were bound to their rooms. Literally, he had been tied up and forced to sit cross-legged, like a little kid, on the single bed in his cell.

Jughead kept his eye on the pebble, awaiting the code. He thought about ignoring the red head but it was the first real time he and Archie had talked since, well, since he had been Stitched. Archie had tried numerous attempts to get inside his head during recovery but Jughead pushed him out; he didn’t want to talk. Christ, he didn’t even want to live at that point. Even in the van when the four of them had been forced to capture Kevin Keller, he didn’t speak to them. Instead, he had cut himself off from the connection both physically and mentally. At first he didn’t think it was possible. How could you disconnect yourself from something that had literally been drilled into your head? The others weren’t just his fellow prisoners of supernatural science anymore; they were _part_ of him. And he hated it. Every chance he got, he avoided them. When Betty had sobbed to him, begging him to accept what had happened to him; he had forced her out. Forced them _all_ out.

He had sat in the van with his arms wrapped around his legs like a kid. Not speaking. Even when Luke had put Archie into a trance because the redhead had refused to kidnap Kevin. Jughead hadn’t put up a fight with the rest of them. He hadn’t tried to punch Luke in the face like Archie or bleed his brain like Veronica. Even Betty, the sweetest girl he knew, had been in a fit of rage. If she _did_ have telekinesis, he was sure she would have used it… but now things were different. The four of them had a goal: escape: save Kevin, and if they worked together and used their horrifying afflictions that had been forced onto them; they might just succeed. Jughead took a steady breath, trying to untighten his chest; Betty still hadn’t given him the code. He briefly wondered if something bad had happened. Had she been caught? He felt a sense of wariness, or fear, overwhelm him and realized it wasn’t just him. The connection worked in weird and wonderful ways; they didn’t just share thoughts, they shared memories and emotions too. Feelings. If one of them was sad or scared, the four of them would _feel_ it. Jughead wondered if the others had equally felt the drowning feeling overwhelming him, his pain and anger and resentment- when he had been Stitched. Yet none of them had complained.

Jughead’s cell, as expected, wasn’t exactly homey. In fact it reminded him of a prison cell which it technically was. He was a prisoner. A genetic experiment gone wrong. Really, if he ever _did_ escape and somehow managed to miraculously obtain whatever Luke had taken away, he would write everything he had experienced. From his first encounter with Archie, to smashing a soda can into the machine monitoring his heart with his mind.

 _‘Jug?’_ Archie’s voice was persistent in his head and just for a second- Jughead snapped; ready to yell at the red-head. The pebble started to wobble as his ability seemed to falter, shaken by his heightened emotion. Jughead gritted his teeth.

‘Y- you-‘ he started to say out loud but then stopped himself before his tongue twisted with confusion, incoherent words flew from his tongue as if he were a pre-schooler. Sometimes it was worse; sometimes he couldn’t even produce words in his _mind._ Jughead corrected himself automatically and _yes_ it fucking hurt. Talking with his mind felt normal to him now which he knew really shouldn’t. _‘You’ve asked me this five times in the last half an hour, Archie,’ h_ e growled, making sure it was damn audible in the red-head’s skull.

‘ _I’m just checking,’_ Archie muttered. Jughead nodded to himself.

 _‘Arch, I’m concentrating.’_ Now he really thought about it, it wasn't exactly taking much of his brainpower. It was getting easier the more he held the pebble. There was a small pause before Archie huffed a little like he was surprised.

‘ _You never call me Arch.’_

 _‘I’ve never realized how fucking annoying you are,’_ Jughead muttered back. He felt his lip twitch slightly into a smile, imagining the redhead’s expression. He sighed softly. Damn, the ropes were tight. He shuffled uncomfortably, trying to poke holes through his restraints with no success. ‘ _I’m kidding.’_ He could feel Veronica, just sitting on the side-lines, not saying anything… just listening in. Then there was Betty. He could hear her thoughts in gibberish as she ran through Luke’s mind, poking into memories and dark crevices of his deepest and darkest thoughts, looking for the code. Archie scoffed and Jughead flinched. The pebble he still held hovering, swayed to the side as if it had reacted to his sudden loss of concentration.

 _‘Don’t do that!’_ He hissed.

‘ _Jughead Jones, did you just make a joke?’_ Archie murmured. Jughead swore he caught the slightest smile, the quirk of amusement in his tone. Jughead shrugged despite the fact that Archie couldn’t see it.

‘ _Did Archie Andrews just laugh?’_ He muttered back.

‘ _What can I do?’_ Archie sighed. ‘ _My voice has been ripped away, I’ve left the fate of the five of us to Cheryl Blossom, who I’m pretty sure I wiped clean and my best friend is being Stitched.’_ Veronica chuckled.

‘ _Mr Optimist strikes again.’_ Jughead felt like Veronica was almost comedic relief sometimes. She made little quips, little jokes, when they were at their lowest. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it was irritating. Jughead still didn’t know how she had been dragged into this. She had remained tight-lipped about her capture, about her Stitching. Except her post-stitching. Jughead had suppressed most of the time when he was first Stitched, apart from his conversation with Veronica. He had been screeching into his pillows, crying against the crackling and whining in his brain- that was the connection stabilising inside his skull - but she had been there; her kind voice lulling him. She had wanted to die. That’s what she had told him, finally opened up to him. She would rather die than be a banshee because it hurt. In Veronica Lodge’s words, it fucking hurt so damn much.

‘ _You have a sarcasm problem.’_ Archie muttered back at the girl. Veronica giggled, causing a spit of static echoing in Jughead’s skull, making him hiss through his teeth.

‘ _That’s why ya love me, Archie.’_

‘ _Debateable,’_ Archie mumbled back.

‘ _Guys.’_ Betty said in her usual chastising tone, joining in. It was like a Skype call inside his head. _‘Jughead’s trying to concentrate,’_ she muttered. Then to him; ‘ _I’ve nearly got it, Jug. Just hold on a little longer.’_ He detected strain in her voice like she was trying to keep it together. Jughead wondered if she had foreseen Kevin as an NG. Jughead swept his gaze side-to-side, watching as the pebble copied, swiftly jerking left to right.

 _‘Okay, it’s no rush,’_ he murmured, resisting the urge to hiss at her to hurry up. Luke wasn’t stupid; sooner or later he was going to notice Betty slowly picking his brain apart. Jughead basked in the sweet silence for a second as the three voices in his head seemed to stop. For a moment, it was just him again. Alone inside his own head.

 _‘He made me hurt her, Jug.’_ Archie’s voice was suddenly slamming into him and he flinched at the familiar feeling- back when he was… himself. Human. The first time Archie had spoken to him, it had been exactly like that. Forcefully pushing itself into his brain, deeply rooting itself inside his skull. It wasn’t supposed to be like that anymore. Jughead was part of the connection now; conversation’s with Archie, with any of them, were smooth like talking through a phone. But here Archie’s voice was, tearing into him, like he didn’t really belong. Like it was unnatural. He remembered the fear, the confusion and irritation overwhelming him that very first time the red head had got inside his head. He supposed he should be used to it by now… so he simply let Archie cry out. This was their first real conversation without Jughead being terrified, haunted and trapped inside the back of a van. So much had happened since but it felt like the perfect time- waiting for Betty to find the code. It hit him then. Ever since meeting Archie, this was their first **real** conversation.

Jughead hesitated at first; he didn’t _do_ emotional conversations because most of them ended with him crying himself. The last heart to heart he had was with his mother at the age of eleven, just before she left with his little sister. It _still_ hurt, just thinking about it. It had been so short. So simple. ‘ _Me and your sister are going away for a while, Juggie.’_ She had grabbed his hand and squeezed it in her lap. ‘ _You’re going to be a brave boy and look after your father aren’t you?’_ Jughead had held onto that promise even though he wanted to go with her, even though he wanted to get the hell out of Riverdale. He still nodded and smiled through tears streaking down his cheeks. Man, he missed his mom. And Jellybean. No. He pushed away from a memory which suddenly seemed so tempting to dive into. A time when life seemed less dark, less terrifying. Because as a kid, he hadn’t seen anything wrong, he naively peered through rose tinted glasses. But no. Jughead shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. He couldn’t think about that right now. It was such a petty memory- compared to what was happening in reality. Instead, he focused on Archie, on what he had said.

‘ _What did you do to her, Arch?’_ From Archie’s silence, he was sure the redhead had seen his memory. Even Betty and Veronica. He felt all three of them just _hanging_ there in the purgatory between their minds but none of them commented on it. The pebble still floated in front of the key-pad, despite Jughead losing concentration multiple times. Huh. Maybe he was stronger than he thought.

 _‘I wiped her.’_ Archie’s voice was choked with emotion. _‘Oh God, Jug. I saw her memories just- just drain from her, like I was physically sucking them from her mind-‘_ His voice hitched. ‘ _She was terrified.’_ He said softly. ‘ _Oh God, she was terrified of me.’_ Archie hadn’t told him that. Though now he thought about it, the redhead had been too traumatised and upset with his friend’s capture. The Phoenix. That’s what Luke had labelled Kevin as. It sent shivers down his spine. In the van on the way back, Archie and Betty had crowded around Kevin, practically suffocating the boy. The three of them had shared a tearful reunion while he and Veronica had simply watched. Veronica had had tears in her eyes. It was perhaps the happiest he had ever seen Archie. Though also the most upset, the most angry. He had seen the boy experience all those emotions as he wrapped his arms around a sobbing Kevin Keller.

‘Oh God, you’re alive,’ the boy had kept repeating, like a broken record. ‘I thought I’d lost you!’ And Betty had been in a state, never letting go of Kevin’s hand. Jughead had watched. Found himself smiling softly in sync with Veronica. Kevin, Betty and Archie. It truly was a beautiful friendship. Jughead shook his head a little, snapping back to reality. Archie’s voice still hung in his head, unanswered. The boy hadn’t attempted to prod and poke him into replying. Jughead watched the pebble rise slightly as he dragged his gaze upward.

‘ _What did you do?’_ He asked softly. Archie let out a frustrated sigh.

 _‘It was too late, Jug. By the time I’d wiped her of everything she had seen- she was falling, and I was waking up-‘_ His voice choked a little like he was going to start crying but he managed to steel himself. ‘ _I told her to get my dad,’_ he said softly, ‘ _but she was already gone.’_ Jughead didn’t speak. He felt Veronica’s presence but could tell she was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. In the end, he simply kept silent. Even when the redhead continued. ‘ _My dad thinks I’m dead,’_ he said, his voice breaking. _‘I’m never going to see him again.’_ His voice was a whimper. The kind you expect from a child. _‘We’re going to die, aren’t we?’_

No. He wanted to say. Of course we’re not! Jughead couldn’t see Archie. Of course he couldn’t, they were in different cells but he could imagine the red head, as if he had the ability to see through walls. Archie, in the exact same position as him, tied up on the shitty bed in an identical cell. Archie was crying. He could almost _feel_ the tears sliding down his cheeks, the tightness in his chest- like his lungs were being crushed. Jughead felt the sorrow envelope the red head and he bit his lip. It was painful- the way it hit him. He felt Archie’s silent cries for his father, for Kevin and Betty and Veronica- for him. The guilt was surprising. Though a little piece of Jughead understood. Archie believed _he_ had been the reason why Jughead was taken in the first place. The guilt flooded him, just like it had overwhelmed the red head.

Jughead felt his chest constrict, his tongue suddenly a million sizes too big. _He wouldn’t_ cry. He stared hard at the floating pebble, blinking rapidly. Archie had really outdone himself this time. Making him want to fucking cry. Jughead sniffed loudly. He could feel the damn tears brimming on his lashes; he blinked them away. Though as hard as he tried to push himself away from the dark hole of thoughts that seemed to crash into him, like turbulent winds. He felt the hopelessness dredge into his mind. Archie Andrews had been the first person in a long time to make him cry.

Jughead barely ever cried in what he now called his past life but ever since meeting Archie that fateful day, he himself had changed. He thought back to the very start- remembered how stuffy he had felt in his work t-shirt. He had been so relieved to get away from the redneck. He’d been halfway to the break room when… Jughead almost smiled at the memory because he thought back to what exactly Archie had made him feel at first glance.

Jughead was sixteen years old, he hadn’t really considered his sexuality- that was if he even had one. Did he like girls? Boys? Both? He couldn’t be sure but he knew the second he saw Archie, he was.... _something._ Jughead recalled feeling a mixture of emotions when he first saw Archie Andrews, and most of them had made his cheeks flush, his stomach twist and turn. There had also been amusement too, and curiosity. Intrigue. A figure standing, drenched in sunlight of the four-o-clock-shadow. And when Archie had stepped closer, he had realised it was the type of guy who would normally brush off his existence.

Jock. Popular guy. Team captain. That’s the kind of vibe Archie had given off. Except, obviously there hadn’t been the boyish grin or the playful gleam in his eyes. That was what first set off his curiosity. Archie had spiked his interest, not because of his rich red hair, or muscular chest straining through that filthy t-shirt. Jughead realized then that it really had been the boy’s expression. Fright. Confusion. Jughead was a writer. He welcomed the strange, the weird, the dark. Of course, there was also the tapping in his head. _Tap, tap, tap._ He felt a shiver when the memory popped into his head. Looking over the heads of customers, searching desperately for that damn tapping.

Except now he knew it was all a trap. Reggie had been part of it, had simply been coaxing him slowly, towards his inevitable fate. Archie had been a pawn. The perfect fucking pawn.

 _‘I should have ran,’_ Jughead found himself saying softly. He should have. Now he thought about it, he could have. He could have turned and dashed from the store to his father. Though, he supposed, it wasn’t as easy as that; they probably would have come after him. After all, he was the fourth connection.

 _‘Then why didn’t you?’_ Archie asked, timidly. Jughead shuffled uncomfortably. It was bad enough being trapped inside four identical brick walls but somehow, with Archie in his head, and for once- nobody else- it felt intimate. The boy felt so damn close, as if the redhead was sat right next to him, breathing down his neck. He thought back to the hallucination Luke had placed him in during surgery. Archie being in the serpent jacket. His coy smirk, playful eyes. Jughead wondered it that was what Archie had been like before he was kidnapped, before his voice was taken away. The guy Betty and Kevin had fallen in love with. Jughead blushed; he couldn’t help it. He eyed the pebble, still floating at his command, gritting his teeth. He thought about Archie’s question. Why _didn’t_ he run? Though the answer was obvious. At first it had been simple interest and intrigue. And then it wasn’t. It was dark, it was terrifying, it was a teenage boy talking inside his skull. He took a deep breath, and the pebble wavered. He tightened his mental control over it.

 _‘Because of you, idiot.’_ He finally said, and smirked a little. ‘ _Archie, you were far too compelling to ignore.’_ Archie chuckled and it caught Jughead off guard. He’d never heard the guy laugh, except from in his memory.

 _‘Was that a compliment, Jughead?’_ Jughead might have replied. This time for the first time in what felt like forever, speaking with his lips, but he was interrupted by Betty who seemed to suddenly gate cash whatever him and Archie shared, her voice echoing in his skull.

‘ _I’ve got it!’_ She yelled. ‘ _Jug, I’ve got the code!’_

 _‘Really?’_ Archie perked up. ‘ _Shit! What is it Betty?’_ His voice seemed to clash with Veronica’s, as she happily cheered;

‘ _That’s my girl!'_

 _‘What’s the code, B?’_ Jughead had never heard any of them sound so happy, so hopeful. He swallowed. So human.

‘ _Okay, Ronnie, keep an eye out for Luke.’_ Veronica choked out a laugh.

 _‘Does that bastard even deserve a name? He’s a cretin_. Besides, H _ow do we get out of these-‘_ Veronica let out a hiss of frustration as she seemed to be straining against the ropes that held her in her own cell. _‘They’re too tight!’_

 _‘One thing at a time, Ronnie,’_ Archie murmured. Jughead noticed the pebble was bouncing as anticipation streamed through him.

‘ _Bets?’_

‘ _O- okay, alright,’_ Betty hissed. ‘ _Jughead, the code is in this order- I’m going to say it slow for you, okay? Archie, can you help with him it?’_ Jughead felt his chest squeeze a little. He didn’t need help. He could- he could do it himself, right? Though just looking at the keypad, at the blur of numbers sticking out at him, made him feel anxious.

 _‘Yeah, Archie,’_ he mumbled. ‘ _Help would be preferred_.’

 _‘Got it,’_ Archie said.

 _'It's five, three, zero, one,_ ' Betty read out the numbers slowly so that he could register them. Archie relayed them back to him, along with the sequence. ‘ _Five is second along on the next line, then three, last on the first line. Zero, that’s easy. The bottom. Then- it’s just the one._ ’ Jughead nodded and got to work. He could do this. The numbers were a blur but the buttons were easy to see. Betty’s voice wavered In his mind as Archie continued to relay the numbers back to him. He nodded to both of them, brushing the rock against each button. The pebble floated perfectly, swaying along with his gaze as he punched in each number. Betty continued; ' _And then- then it’s simple, Jug. It’s just four more numbers. They’re seven, five, two and one,'_ she said. Her voice was shaking with excitement. Jughead had never heard her sound so excited. He wished he knew the real Betty Cooper. The girl she was _before._

_'Wait!_ ' Veronica's voice stopped him from going further, and the pebble hovered, awaiting his command. The girl’s voice was shaking. _'There's someone...'_ She let out a frightened breath. _'There's someone coming!'_ Archie swore loudly and Betty let out a frustrated cry. Jughead felt a shiver fly down his spine and his concentration faltered, the rock starting to wobble again. He shuffled backwards, struggling in his bindings. The door to his cell flew open and a hand whipped through, grasping hold of the pebble and yanking it from his control. Jughead let out a frustrated hiss when Luke stepped through with his usual satisfied smirk.

'Mr Jones, as thrilled as I am that you're finally using your ability, I didn't mean abuse it using it to try and escape.' Luke tutted, taking a step over the threshold. ‘I hope you don’t mind getting a new room-mate,’ the man murmured, a grin stretching across his face. It took Jughead a few seconds to realise the man had hold of Kevin Keller by the shoulders. The boy looked pale and washed out. He stared right through Jughead with eyes half open. He too had been stripped of his clothes and wore the same scratchy scrubs Jughead had been forced into. 

Luke smiled at Jughead, tightening his grip on Kevin's shoulders. Kevin didn't even seem to notice. He only stared right through him, somewhere better. Less horrific. Jughead’s felt a pang in his chest. He thought of the Kevin from Archie’s memory, the kid who had congratulated Archie after his performance. His skin practically glowing, eyes shining with excitement. Kevin looked like a shadow of himself. A shell. ‘Mr Keller here has been through a lot of testing, he's feeling a little tired.’ Luke explained. ‘He’s a marvellous boy. We’re incredibly lucky to have him.’

For a moment, Jughead couldn't register what Luke was saying because of the yelling and screaming in his head.

_'Bastard!'_ Archie was crying out. Betty was sobbing and Veronica was hissing at them to shut up.

_'Wasn't it obvious he knew the whole time?'_ She was yelling, making him wince _. 'Betty, babe, please stop crying,’_ her voice soothed but Betty didn’t stop; it felt like she was throwing her fists into Jughead’s mind, slamming them repeatedly into his skull as she screeched mercilessly. Eventually, Jughead found his voice, after forcefully blocking out the storm inside his head. He glared at Luke with as much malice as he could muster.

'D-did-' Jughead wanted to cry and scream. He wanted to tear at his own brain and rip it to shreds. Every stutter and splurge of speech he managed made him sick to his stomach... but the question was burning in his brain, on the tip of his tongue; even if he didn't want to use it. 'Did y-y-you-' his eyes were glued to Kevin and suddenly it seemed even harder to speak. He couldn’t bare to even look at the kid. The boy stood frozen, as if in a trance. He didn’t seem to be listening to anything Luke was saying. Instead, his grey eyes stared into nothing. Luke chuckled.

'Spit it out, Mr Jones!' He shook his head with a laugh. 'If you want to know if we _have_ Stitched Mr Keller, then the answer is no.’ Jughead felt Archie’s relief flood his mind. Though Luke continued; ‘His Stitching process is very different to any of yours.' he winked at Jughead. 'Yes, Mr Andrews and Miss Cooper, I am talking to you too.' Archie and Betty didn't reply. Veronica muttered something incoherent, her voice bouncing around his skull. He felt dizzy. ‘Anyway, Kevin must rest.' Luke gave the boy a shove and Kevin stumbled forwards. Jughead longed to dive off of the bed, rip from his restraints and help the boy walk, since he seemed to be having great difficulty. He only took a few steps before slumping to the ground and curling into himself. Wrapping his arms around his head and pressing his face into the tiles.

Jughead turned his attention to Luke, standing there looking at Kevin with a proud grin. As if Kevin was his fifth child, his _third_ son. Jughead felt bile at the back of his throat. He glared at the man, imagining his ability picking him up and slamming him hard, skull first, into the metal door. He stared hard until Luke's lab coat started to flap around manically. Luke's expression faltered, his smile disappearing. 'Jughead.’ He growled. ‘I suggest you get that ridiculous thought out of your head,' his tone darkened. 'After all. I can find another Phoenix.' He gestured to Kevin, still slumped on the floor. Jughead let go of him automatically, letting out a hiss. His chest tightened and Luke only smiled. ‘I can kill him whenever I please, Mr Jones.’ He said. ‘Kevin Keller is not the only Riverdale teenager who has Phoenix qualities.’ He winked and Jughead’s stomach flipped over. But he wasn’t the only one who reacted. He felt Archie’s confusion.

‘ _What?’_ The boy hissed. ‘ _If- if he has records of every kid in Riverdale, does that mean-‘_ the boy’s voice hitched. ‘ _The town is helping him.’_

_'No.’_ Betty whispered. ‘ _My mom- my mom's on the council. She’d- she’d never-‘_ Luke chuckled.

‘ _Miss Cooper, it goes deeper than that, I'm afraid.’_ He giggled a little manically. ‘ _You would be surprised how many people in your little town support my project.’_ He clicked his tongue, before backing out of the room. ‘ _Oh, and Archie?’_ Luke smiled at Jughead, knowing the redhead was listening _._ ‘Cheryl Blossom may not remember, but trust me, she’s going to be here very soon.’

‘ _What?’_ Archie shrieked. ‘ _No, you bastard, leave her the fuck out of this!’_ Before Archie could burst his brain with insults and profuse cusses, Luke was out the door, slamming it. Before Jughead could mentally grab hold of the man and smash him into oblivion. That left him with Kevin. He didn't know what to say or do. Archie had gone silent in his head as Luke’s words battered at the boy, seemingly overwhelming him with pain. Luke was going to take Cheryl. It was obvious. She was next. But the way Luke had said it with that knowing smirk. It was something more. Jughead knew it. Kevin didn't yet have the telepathic ability so Jughead would have to use his mouth. He took a shaky breath and eyed the crumpled form of the Sheriff's son. He considered, for a second, lifting the boy up with his ability and placing him on the bed but the thought made him uncomfortable. _'Talk to him,’_ Archie hissed, in his head. The boy sounded like he had given up, his voice choked and barely audible. ' _I can't- I can't speak to him, Jug. He's blocking me out._ ' The boy laughed then, albeit a little hysterically. _'I think he's fucking scared of me.'_ Jughead hesitated. He wanted to refuse. He barely knew the kid, he had no idea what to say, but he meant a lot to Archie and Betty.

_'I'll try.'_ He mumbled. Then to Kevin, he braced himself for the stuttering and stumbling over basic words that haunted him. How was he supposed to start a conversation? Somehow, any other ice-breaker seemed not exactly suitable for the situation. _So!_ He imagined himself saying. _'I missed a few episodes of Game of Thrones, since y’know, I was kidnapped and turned into a freak. Mind telling me what Jon Snow and company are up to?'_ Yeah, he was sure that conversation would go great. Jughead sighed, ragging relentlessly at the ropes wrapped around his wrists. He had lost all the blood flow to his wrists. They felt numb. That’s it. He twisted his head where Kevin still lay, curled up like a foetus. 'D-do you m-mind unt-tying me?' He asked softly. He wanted to say more but he was only limited to a few words. If he really tried to go all out with speech, he'd end up spluttering gibberish. He expected Kevin to ignore him, but the boy sat up suddenly, looking at him through glazed eyes, his fringe bouncing against his sweaty forehead before raising to his feet and stumbling over to the bed. He sat down next to Jughead, his hands reaching out and beginning to yank at the restraints, until Jughead felt the ropes slip from his wrists. "Th-thanks." He said. The hitch in his voice was killing him but Kevin didn't even seem to notice. He had already slumped backwards, burying himself in Jughead's pillows, and curling back up. There was a beat of a silence before Kevin sighed into the pillows, surprising him with speech.

'Your dad's looking for you.' The boy mumbled. Jughead wasn't sure how to respond to that. His chest tightened, and once again that feeling came over him. He couldn't breathe. His eyes stung. Just the thought of his father searching for him, it made him want to cry like a baby. Kevin began to chuckle into the pillows, though Jughead wasn't sure if he was laughing or crying. "FP Jones,' he mumbled. 'Every morning without fail, barging into Dad's office.' Jughead wanted to say something but he was afraid, whatever he said would choke at the back of his throat. He started to wonder if the drugs Kevin had been fed were starting to affect him. The bed creaked when Kevin sat up, this time facing Jughead with wide, dilated eyes. Jughead flinched. What the hell did Luke give him? The boy looked like he was on a high. ‘It's going to happen to me isn't it?’ Kevin said, his voice grim. 'Whatever fucked up Lazarus shit he did to you guys, he's going to do it to me.' 

Jughead didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent. Kevin yanked at the blue scrubs clinging to his skin. 'He said it was a once in a lifetime opportunity,' he muttered pulling at the elastic. Jughead felt like scoffing. _Sure. But did he have a CHOICE to take part in this so- called opportunity? Did any of them? No._ Kevin hung his head. 'I'm going to be Stitched aren't I?' He said softly, and his gaze was suddenly boring into Jughead's. Jughead felt sick. His mouth went dry. This was the exact same conversation he had with Archie. The boy had reassured him, sugar-coated the inevitable truth but Jughead understood why Archie had lied to him. He didn't want to scare him. _Yes._ He wanted to say. He wanted to tell Kevin the truth. That he was already the so-called 'Fifth Connection' whether he liked it or not. He wanted to tell the boy that he himself had tried to run, tried to escape it- but even in the end, he too had been Stitched. It had happened so fast, there was no time to even fear it.

'No,' he found himself saying. It was like word vomit. He had to look away, avoid the sudden gleam of hope in Kevin's eyes. 

‘What?’ Kevin laughed harshly. ‘Are you going to use your superpowers to get me out?’

‘You’ll- you’ll be fine.’ Jughead spat out. Kevin rolled his eyes.

‘Because you sound great.’ He muttered. Jughead recognised the stubbornness, the defiance to listen. He’d been like that. Jughead swallowed, ignoring the boy. 

'No, we're going to get you out of here.' he said, and his stomach faulted into his throat. He echoed the words once spoken to him by Archie once upon a time. Back in the van. Back when he had been curled up, tied up, terrified of the strange kids he had been throw-in in with. The boy with no voice, the girl with no eye, and Hiram Lodge’s beautiful daughter with no ears. What had he called them again? _The Mutant Freak Force._ 'Kevin,' he surprised himself by not stuttering the boy's name. His next words hurt more than anything Luke had ever said. Because he was giving false hope. But what was better? Giving false hope, or telling the boy what was going to happen? That his head was going to be pummelled with four telepathic minds. That he was going to lose a part of himself. 

' _Lie to him.'_ Betty whispered in his head, suddenly. Her voice was broken. Fractured beyond repair. _'Please, Jughead.'_ Jughead took a breath, and forced a reassuring smile. He wondered how much it must have hurt Archie, when the boy had made his promise to him. Archie's words echoed in his own mind, as he forced himself to speak them out loud. He felt Betty's presence, coaxing him, calming him. _'It's okay,'_ she murmured. _'The best thing you can do right now is lie to him.'_ She was right. Jughead nodded at Kevin.

‘It’s not going to happen to y- you.’ He said, mentally rejoicing at very nearly pronouncing a full sentence. He sighed before offering his hand to the boy, who after rolling eyes grasped it, and shook it. Jughead’s stomach was dancing, but Betty’s voice was soft in his head, reassuring. But then it ultimately broke.

‘ _We might still be able to save him, right?’_ she whispered. Jughead watched Kevin as the boy sank into the mattress and buried his head in the shitty pillows. He found himself lying down next to Kevin. In a way, it was kind of comforting.

‘ _Yeah, Betty,_ ’ he murmured to her, closing his eyes. He felt the girl in his head, as she pressed him to stay awake. She was lonely, she was scared. But he was already drifting off. ‘ _Maybe..’_

* * *

  
_Turned her tears to diamonds in her crown_

Veronica Lodge squirmed in her bonds, struggling against the ropes that had been wrapped around her wrists; but there was no avail. She had been struggling for God knows how long and it was starting to tire her out. She just wanted to sleep. Veronica peered up through her un-brushed dark hair which sheathed her eyes. The light in her cell was too damn bright. She blinked at it, willing it to dim, just so she could try and sleep. Irritatingly, it only seemed to glow brighter, causing shadows to dance across her peripheral. Veronica let out a hiss of frustration and lay on her back, on-top of the thin blankets on her bed. She twisted uncomfortably. It was impossible to get comfortable when her hands were bound behind her back.

 _‘Archie?’_ She whispered to the boy in her mind. She felt him but there was no reply. She figured he was asleep, along with Betty and Jughead. Betty. She missed talking to the girl. She had been there when Betty was taken and could only watch helplessly at the blonde was yanked from her life. _Veronica knelt in the van, her lips stretched into an O as she screeched, her lungs expanded, her lips crackling, blood dribbling down her chin. And there Betty Cooper stood, in her baby pink dress and curly blonde hair. Back then she was still her, still human. A normal teenage girl. Still with her sight, her big baby blue eyes wide and frightened. Luke had already told her Betty was going to be the second connection, and Veronica had wanted to save her- wanted to scream at her to run. But she couldn't. She could only embrace her banshee cry as it ripped through her._

_She had felt like a monster- not even human. Compared to what she had once been. From the look on Betty Cooper’s face, the girl thought that too. The bandages around her head, hiding the punctures in her skull where her ears had been removed. Archie Andrews had been the same experience. Archie, like Betty, had looked at her like she really was a monster. He remembered his wide eyes, mouth open in shock. He had been handsome, so damn handsome when she first laid eyes on him. Rich red hair blowing in the breeze, his expression contorted with terror as Luke held him-_

_‘Don’t make me do this.’_ She had whispered. She had felt the cry in her throat, threatening to rip from her lips. She had tried to keep it back, biting down on her lip. _‘I’m sorry!’_ She had cried.

‘ _Sorry for what?!’_ But just looking at Archie, how damn scared he had looked. She didn’t want him to be the so-called third connection. He looked too soft, too innocent- too naïve, to be dragged into the nightmare she had been plunged into. It had made her lose control and before she could stop it- his hands were clamping over his ears, his mouth opening in a cry of pain as her scream slammed into his brain, reducing him to a quivering mess on the floor. Blood had been trickling from his ears and eyes. She wanted to help him- oh God, she wanted to help him but all she could do was screech, as her ability carried her into oblivion. No. Veronica pulled away from the memory, squeezing her eyes shut. But she still felt the icy wind on her skin, saw Archie lunging forwards to help her. Falling right into Luke Tanzeni’s trap.

 _‘Ron?’_ Archie’s sleepy murmur invaded her thoughts, and she let out a breath of relief. She wasn’t alone. ‘ _You okay?’_ He mumbled. Veronica scoffed into her pillow. She couldn’t seem to get the image of the boy out of her head. Archie Andrews before she was taken and fucked up like her. He’d just come from a talent show, his white shirt blowing in the breeze, his dark brown eyes wide when she had given into her banshee screech, falling backwards back into the van.

‘ _You’re hurting her!’_ His cry reverberated in Veronica’s mind as the memory hit her. Veronica had been the first to experience the telepathy. It was like second nature to her. She stretched out her legs on the bed. She felt the scrubs she had been forced to wear chafe against her skin. Her eyes stung with tears, but she wouldn’t cry. No matter how hard it got, she refused to cry. That’s what her Father had always told her ever since she was a child. Veronica had broken the promise she had made to him as a frightened nine year old so many times. She had sobbed when she had been Stitched, cried when Luke had taken Archie and Betty. She was a pathetic daughter, a useless daughter. Veronica pressed her face into the ratty pillows and held her breath. What even _was_ she? The others had their abilities- Archie could mentally manipulate people’s minds, Jughead could levitate objects and Betty could see the future. Luke had told her she was a banshee. The only proof she’d had of possessing a banshee’s cry was when Archie was captured. Luke had pushed her to it. Forced her to release the cry she now held. But she was yet to predict a death. Luke had her in for testing every single day without fail. He’d electrocute her, inject her with drugs she didn’t know the name of. But all she had done was scream and cry and claw at the restraints holding her down. She had caught the look of disappointment in Luke’s eye after she had failed to release her cry. He was ashamed of her.

Luke tried to get her to remember when she was first Stitched but she had suppressed it, pushing it as far back into her mind as possible. She _wouldn’t_ think of it. Luke knew if she remembered- if she really thought about what he had done to her. It would surely trigger her banshee cry. Veronica breathed heavily into her pillows, could taste and smell her filthy tangled hair in her mouth. Luke had showed her a picture of a banshee. Long dark scruffy hair and a white flowing dress. She fought against the memory, but suddenly it was too clear- too bright- slamming into her mind before she could stop it.

‘ _Veronica?’_ Archie’s voice suddenly creeping into her thoughts startled her, and she let out a breath of relief.

‘ _I’m-I’m okay.’_ She whispered. Tears were welling at her eyes but she refused to cry. Crying was a weakness. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the stupid tears to go away.

‘Now, honey, are you going to cry and be weak, or suck it up and be strong?’ Her Father had asked her when she had fallen off her bike when she was twelve. She had wiped her tears away and nodded, forcing a smile.

‘Be strong.’ She had answered, grinning through the searing pain from her skinned and bloody knees. Her father nodded with a satisfactory smile.

‘Good girl.’ There was a pause before Archie spoke again, a bit hesitant.

 _‘Do you want to talk?’_ Veronica _did_ want to talk. But her eyes were heavy, her thoughts cloudy and muddled.

 _‘No, I’m okay,’_ she murmured. Then she closed her eyes. ‘ _Sing to me.’_ She said softly.

‘ _Hmm?’_ Archie sounded confused. He was more awake, more alert. Anything involving music or singing, Archie was like an excited kid. ‘ _I thought you hated it when I sang into your head.’_ He mumbled. She found herself smiling. Idiot. She thought.

 _‘No, I hated it when you sang Yellow Submarine on repeat for hours on end.’_ She muttered back.

‘ _So, what do you want me to sing?’_ Archie asked. She chuckled. _‘Anything, Archie.’_ She mumbled.

 _‘Just sing me anything.’_ She was half expecting him to ignore her, and fall asleep. But then he opened his mouth and started to sing softly, so sweetly it mesmerized her. She almost _understood_ why Luke took him in the first place. Veronica slowly felt herself drift from reality as Archie murmured some melancholic sweet song in her mind. The lyrics swirled through her thoughts, calming her, lulling her to sleep. Veronica dreamed of a different reality, another life where she curled up on the red-head’s knee as he strummed his guitar softly, and sang to her. With his real voice. The voice that had been ripped away from him. And she swore at that moment, curled up in her cell, shivering from the cold. Archie’s voice still echoing in her mind as he sung song after song. She was finally some sort of happy.

* * *

Happiness was a foreign concept in this world, however. Veronica’s new life and world only involved pain, confusion and the overwhelming urge to just end it all. She was rudely awakened by the shock of freezing cold water splashing all over her, drenching her. She was up in seconds, gasping for breath from the temperature of the water. Her arms were still bound behind her back, and all she could was wriggle and twist in her bonds, her limbs slipping and sliding on the soaked mattress.

It took her a moment for her to grasp a hold of reality. Archie was silent in her head. It was only her. Alone, once again. She tried to sit up, puffing for breath against the icy cold water that dripped from her face, her clothes. It streaked her hair to her cheeks, stuck to her neck. She started to sob, as she struggled. Her mouth opened to cry out for help, but her words were sucked from her as all the breath was drawn from her chest when she once again soaked with another gush of water. This time she felt the ice dropping on her head, sliding down her back. She tried to cry, to scream, but the water numbed her body. She struggled to breathe, spluttering as she once again tried to sit up.

‘No, Ronnie. Honey. Stay down.’ The voice shocked her. She lay flat on her back, her eyes squeezed shut against the next onslaught of water. But none came.

‘Daddy?’ She whispered, her eyes flickering open in shock. She couldn't sit up, her restraints were too tight. She started to panic, her chest clenching. The clothes she wore were soaked through, sticking to her skin. She felt like they were suffocating her.

‘Yes, that’s right, Veronica. I’m here.’ Her father’s voice was reassuring, and calm. But it sounded so...so close.

‘Dad?’ she sobbed, trying to get up. Veronica gave up then, with a hiss of frustration. She could already feel it, as the panic climbed her throat. She felt it ripping across her mind, searing her lungs. ‘You’re not real.’ She whispered. ‘Oh God, you’re not- you’re not real.’

‘Open your eyes, Ronnie.’ Was his only reply. Veronica felt her stomach flip over. Her eyelashes fluttered open and she strained her neck, swallowing a cry, when she saw him. Sitting by her bedside with a small smile on his face. Handsome, clean shaven. He had short dark hair and olive skin. Her father.

‘Dad!’ She tried to sit up but her legs slid on the soaking mattress and she only managed to a half-hearted attempt, slamming back on her back. ‘Dad, untie me!’ She hissed. ‘Please!’ She became more desperate the more her father seemed to completely blank her. Her lips were starting to go numb, but she managed another screech. ‘Why- why aren’t you helping me?!’ She cried. ‘Daddy, look what they- look what they did to me!’ Hiram Lodge didn’t say anything. And when his daughter finally looked up at him, her heart sank. But it didn’t just sink. It plummeted. Hiram Lodge held an empty metal bucket as he loomed over his daughter.

‘Try and unlock your gift, Veronica,’ he murmured. Veronica felt her heart splinter. Her tears came freely then, mixing with the ice cold water sliding down her cheeks.

‘Please,’ she said softly. Veronica slammed her head hard against the bed. ‘Please- oh God, please tell me you’re not part of this!’ She sobbed. Hiram hesitate before answering.

‘Veronica, sweetheart. I wanted you to be the first ever New Generation Faradae. Do you understand me?’ His tone darkened and he glared down at the soaking wet girl. ‘We gave you the gift of a _banshee_ ,’ he gritted his teeth, spittle dribbling down his chin. ‘Yet we’ve killed countless failed NG’s this week and you haven’t cried _once!’_ He spat. Veronica was speechless. Her father’s words _hurt_. They hurt so fucking much. Luke Tanzeni had ripped her from her home and turned her into a monster. Turned three others like her. And her father- he was part of it.

‘Get out.’ She said through her teeth. She turned over, burying her head in her arms. But Hiram only laughed.

‘Veronica, _petal,_ he said, malice dripping from his tone. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you have screamed for some kid’s death.’ He growled. Veronica’s cheeks were burning. She felt humiliated- her father stood over, staring down at her. Not at his daughter but at a lab rat. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily.

‘Mom.’ She said softly, forcing her voice not to break. ‘Was she part of this?’ Hiram chuckled.

‘Hermione? Of course not, honey. She and the rest of the world think you ran off with that cretin boyfriend you were attached to.’ Veronica didn’t speak, but her mind seemed to be on autopilot. She was seeing herself, months ago, in the bathroom of her school, New York Prep. It felt like a lifetime away. A different life. _She had been in her cheerleading outfit, her pom-poms had been dumped in the sink as she stood, one hand planted on her hip. Glaring down at a freshman girl. She had been surrounded by her minions. All with the exact same antagonizing grin on their perfectly made-up faces._

_‘Kick her face in Veronica!’ Lili Singh, one of her minions had giggled._

_‘What did you just fucking say to me?’ She had spat, at the freshman. her tone venomous. The girl had shrunk, her knees hitting the ground._

_‘Veronica, it was a joke.’ She whispered. It had been a joke. The kid had casually referred to her and her friends as 'Plastics.' Though Veronica hadn’t found it funny in the slightest. The girl’s voice shook as she tried to explain herself._

_‘Oh really?’ She had smirked before reaching out and yanking at the girl’s ponytail. ‘Is that funny? You fucking freak.’ The girl had let out a squeak and shook her head before leaping to her feet and darting to the door. Veronica waved. ‘If I ever see you in this bathroom again,’ she had threatened, dragging a perfectly manicured nail across her throat. ‘You’re dead!’ She smiled sweetly, enjoying the fear light up the girl’s eyes. ‘Bye!’_ Freak. Veronica wanted to laugh. Oh, the irony. Who was the freak now? She was.

‘You were a teen tearaway, Veronica.’ Her father’s voice splintered the memory, making her flinch. ‘You were so hard to control,’ he murmured, almost dreamily. ‘Doctor Luke told me he could fix you. He could fix your generation.’

‘Starting on kids from Riverdale and-’ she hesitated. ‘Me.’ She finished for him. Then she choked out a hysterical laugh . Her eyes were wide and staring at the ceiling, at every crack in the tiles. ‘Well, dad, you’re out of luck.’ She forced a smile, though she could feel herself falling apart. ‘I’m not the Banshee you guys so desperately want.’ She spat every work, just like her father. Hiram sighed.

‘Veronica, I'm going to help you unlock it.’ He murmured. He knelt next to her bedside. ‘Okay, honey?’

‘Fuck you,’ she spat. Veronica refused to look at him; Hiram only rolled his eyes.

‘You certainly haven’t lost your attitude, young lady.’ He said. Veronica rolled over and brought her knees to her chest and shivered. She tried to block her father out but it was impossible.

‘Do you know how much it _hurt?’_ She whispered. ‘How much- my- my head felt like it was going to burst, how- how the buzzing...’ she started to sob. ‘Oh God, the buzzing!’

‘Yes, Veronica.’ Hiram stood up, his eyes widening hopefully. ‘Yes, honey. Think about what happened when they Stitched you. Come on love,’ he murmured. ‘I know you can do it.’

‘No!’ she screamed. But she was already falling into the memory- the dark abyss of her mind where she had pashed it back, suppressed it.

_‘Now, Veronica,’ Luke’s voice chilled her. Even if it was just the memory. It overwhelmed her, drowned her, suffocated her. ‘Now’s the time to embrace your banshee cry.’ Luke had said into her head. His voice had stuttered and stumbled over static tearing into her mind. ‘Don’t be scared, young lady.’ Luke had muttered into her head. ‘The buzzing in normal. There are no connection’s as of yet.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re going to have to bare with it until I find the others.’_

_Veronica hadn’t been listening. She had been too panicked, too terrified. She felt her hands slamming into the glass tank, could feel the icy cold water rising over her head. The buzzing- the buzzing in the head. She wanted to reach into her skull and rip out her brain. Everything was silent- so silent around her. She opened her eyes, to find herself staring at her own watery reflection as she floated in the depths. She saw her own hair floating around her like a halo. The fresh bandages still wrapping her head from surgery flapped in the depths as she struggled and squirmed._

_She couldn’t- she couldn’t breathe! The buzzing, the static in her head, it was driving her crazy! But there was something- wrong. She wasn’t drowning. But the feeling was rooted deep inside of her. Her lungs were being squeezed, her throat tight. She could feel her head becoming heavier, her thoughts duller._

_‘Please!’ She had tried to cry but her screams were drowned out by the static in her head. Her chest constructed when she let out a sob and tore at her bandages. Veronica opened her mouth to scream but water gushed through her mouth, through her nose- drowning her lungs, filling up her throat- suffocating her. ‘Let me out!’ She had tried to screech but all she had managed was a silent cry as she battered her fists against the glass. The water was starting to numb her limbs._

_‘That’s enough, Miss Lodge.’ Luke grumbled. Then, after a small moment. ‘Get her out. It’s not working.’_ Veronica tore herself from the memory, a moment too late. She let out a cry when another bucket of water was poured all over her, and this time, she didn’t bite it back. She couldn’t. She felt it tearing through her, overwhelming her. She sprang up, her lips opening, stretching into an O, before an unearthly cry escaped her mouth. She felt it ringing in her own ears, she felt it awaken the others automatically, in her mind. Archie was first to react, his voice was faint, choked with agony as her wail once again battered his drums.

‘ _Ronnie?’_ He cried. ‘ _What’s- what’s happening?’_ But she didn’t- she couldn’t reply. All she could do was let the banshee cry envelope her, take her over. She felt the familiar trickle of blood running from her nose, her mouth, her ears. Her father stood proudly.

‘Yes, Veronica!’ He yelled. ‘Embrace what we gave you!’ Veronica felt her body start to tremble but she couldn’t stop it. She suddenly saw the shiny silver of a knife, and a scarlet smear of blood. Her chest tightened. Then bright orange. Bright orange flames flickering and licking across human flesh which didn’t burn or blacken. Then- scarlet fingernails. She saw them in a bright flash. Though none of it made sense to her.

Veronica’s banshee screech still streamed from her mouth but it wasn’t just the monster inside her, it was her own cry. Because she had seen who was going to die. Their name was on her lips, clawing up her throat as if the urge to say it was killing her.

‘Veronica!’ Her eyes flew open and she realized her father was holding onto her hands, squeezing them tightly. His eyes were gleaming. ‘Who is going to die?’ He urged her, yanking her arms painfully. ‘Spit it out!’ he hissed. Veronica couldn’t reply. She tried to tug away from her father’s grasp, but her arms were numb. Her whole body was frozen, petrified, as she saw their death in flashes right in front of her eyes. Kevin. The urge to splutter his name was overwhelming, as her banshee cry let her go. She fell back onto the wet mattress, gasping for breath. Her father was smiling down at her. ‘That’s my girl.’ He was saying, over and over again. Though she wasn’t sure if that _was_ him, or her mind repeating it like a broken record. ‘Finally!’ The man exclaimed. ‘It took you long enough!’

Veronica longed to hurt him. Hurt her own father. The man she had trusted her entire life. She wanted to wail and scream and cry until his ears were bleeding, until his brain leaked from his lobes. But she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t wipe the blood from her mouth, nose or ears. She could only think of Kevin Keller, and that he was the one who was going to die. She felt like she was trapped in the water tank once more, starved of oxygen. She wanted to talk to Archie, to Betty. But she couldn’t muster words. Veronica only lay on her back and let herself cry, and then sob, loving every moment. Because her father was watching her, glaring at her. With that look of disappointment she had strived her entire life to avoid. But Veronica Lodge ignored her father. Only one thought occupied her mind.

Kevin Keller was going to burn.


	8. Phoenix

Cheryl Blossom had never smoked in her life; she considered cigarettes as disgusting and repulsive. Yet there she stood, desperately sucking the life out of one as her shaking hands attempted to ignite the end with a cheap lighter. She shivered in the fall chill as an early morning breeze whipped her hair from her face, dragging the breath from her lungs. She glanced up at the pearly pink blushing clouds sky as dawn approached. She hadn't been able to sleep; not with the constant incessant nagging in her brain that something was really wrong. 

So before the sun had even began to grace the sky, she was out of bed, wrapped in her favourite warm sweats and mindlessly walking the streets. Something was happening to her; she wasn't sure what but she felt… different. It was the smell that had led her to Gencare; a huge dentistry just outside of Riverdale. It sat just across the road main road, a huge building resembling a school. Cheryl had been standing there in the pouring rain for the last ten minutes, trying to mentally convince herself that she was okay; trying to tell herself that she wasn’t involved in the disappearances of three North side kids, and that one Southsider. But no matter how hard she tried to mentally force the words into her mind, she knew she was wrong, and the voice at the back of her mind, the irritating dig, dig, dig in her thought process. It was right.

Truthfully? She wasn't okay. Kids were going missing, and somehow- she was connected to it all. And that bastard smell, rotting in her nose, enveloping her senses. It was driving her crazy.

‘Hey, this is Jason! I'm not here right now, so if you could please leave a message, that would be great. I’ll get back to you.’ For some reason her own brother’s voice made Cheryl nearly jump out of her skin. She hissed out a breath and groaned. _Pull yourself together!_

Cheryl took a breath, waiting for the beep of the answering machine; her fingernails dug into her phone as she struggled to speak. She hadn't seen Jason since yesterday, just before she was dragged to the Sheriff’s office and questioned by Kevin Keller’s clearly unstable father; she knew she was only participating in interviews just to give the family a good reputation. Except now, her head was battered, she was pretty sure she was going crazy, and she never wanted to hear the names Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper and Kevin Keller again.

'Hey JJ,' She took another drag of the cigarette, her gaze on the cracks in the side-walk. 'Uh, I haven't seen you in a while, so if you could call me back-' Cheryl's words were drowned out by a trucker speeding past, straight through two hours of rainfall soaking the road. She cursed, stumbling back and lifted her head to shout obscenities at the careless driver but instead, her green flecked gaze landed on a teenage boy standing across the road, leaning on the automatic doors leading into Gencare.

She stared at him, unable to help herself, but it wasn't because he was cute. Cheryl squinted at him, trying to formulate a name in her head. There was nothing. The boy was of Asian descent, with short spiky black hair. He was staring right back at her, a teasing smirk on his lips. Cheryl felt her heart drop. She knew him. Though she had no idea why. Cheryl was 100% sure she had never seen him before in her life. Yet there was that voice right at the back of her mind, screaming that she knew him. She knew him, she knew him!

Cheryl pocketed her phone and sniffed the air; that _smell_ was back, and it was stronger than ever. Before she knew what she was doing, Cheryl was darting across the road with her head down, clacking in her heels, wrapping her arms around her chest to try and escape the bitter cold. Gencare gave her the creeps. The brightly lit reception, clinical white walls. It almost seemed like it was disguising a secret hidden under all that glamour. Something dark; and Cheryl was determined to figure out what it was. She strode over to the guy with purpose, a scowl on her face.

‘What?' She couldn't help hissing, and the closer she got, the more familiar the boy seemed. 'What the hell are you looking at?' The boy chuckled and looked Cheryl up and down.

‘You don’t strike me as a smoker,’ he murmured, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He took one out and stuck it between his lips, before offering her the box. ‘Want one?’ His words were muffled by the cig, and she had trouble replying for a second. Her mind was screaming at her. _She knew him_. But where from? Cheryl shook her head,

‘I’m good.’ She said stiffly. He only nodded and fumbled for a lighter, igniting the end and taking a deep drag.

‘Alright then.’ He blew a wisp of smoke directly into her face and she resisted the urge to flinch. The boy regarded her with a lopsided smile. Any other day Cheryl would flip her hair and pout, maybe reveal some cleavage but it wasn’t a normal day. Yes, he was cute. Her type? Definitely - and he was almost certainly a bad boy. But Cheryl wasn’t going to let a boy get between her finding out where the hell Kevin Keller and his friends were. She was going to find out because Sheriff Sheriff Keller seemed to have it in his head that she was to blame. ‘Don’t leave town, Cheryl.’ He’d grumbled when the interview had been over. She had been too shocked to reply. She only nodded and mumbled; ‘Of course.’

She took a step back.

‘You were staring at me,’ she said, her tone almost as icy as the air. ‘Is there a reason for that? Or do you just go around casually gawking at girls?’ The boy didn’t look taken aback. If anything, he looked amused. He took another drag of his cigarette.

‘Is there anything against looking at pretty girls?’ He smirked, raising his eyebrows. Cheryl scoffed.

‘Weirdo,’ she muttered; the boy only grinned at her. She definitely recognised that smile.

‘So, do you have an appointment?’ He asked, and when Cheryl frowned in confusion, he gestured to the giant GENCARE logo on the automatic doors behind them. Cheryl was lost for words for a second. Part of her brain was trying to remember who the hell the guy was, and part of it was trying to think of a never-said-before-insult. A real Cheryl Blossom special but she wasn’t feeling it. Instead, she became flustered. Something that never happened to her. Her palms started to sweat, and she wiped them on her jacket. Her breathing was suddenly ragged, her chest tightening.

‘I-‘ she floundered with her speech for a second, before ending up nodding like an idiot. ‘Why else would I be here?’ She spat. The boy didn’t reply. His gaze was on the lit end of the cigarette. He seemed to be studying it, as if there was a deeper meaning to the orange glow. Cheryl was, at first, mesmerized by it. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away. The smell struck her again, and she swallowed a groan. This time it was a stronger, a more toxic aroma that she felt seep through her nose, her lips. She suddenly felt filthy- goosebumps prickled her neck. Cheryl didn’t waste any more time. She huffed, pushing past the boy and wandered over to the doors. Her stomach was in her throat. The doors slid open, and for a second, she revelled in the warm air drifting from Gencare’s reception. ‘Don’t come near me again,’ she grumbled, sending him the dirty side-eye. ‘I mean it.’

The boy chuckled and she couldn’t help think she’d heard it before. Cheryl felt the hairs on her neck stand up. For some reason, she didn’t move. She wanted to stay with him longer, enough time for her whacked out brain to sort itself out and her memories to resurface.

‘See-ya in the elevator,’ the boy murmured and his words sent chills down her spine.

Cheryl froze. Her gut twisting.

‘Excuse me, what?’ She spun around to question him but to her amazement, she was staring into empty space. The boy had gone. She gaped, expecting her eyes to be playing tricks on her but the boy didn’t blink back into existence. It was like he was never there. Cheryl swallowed. Her stomach hurt and she could still smell that lingering stink which had haunted her from the rag she found yesterday. Cheryl thought about going home. Sleeping. Maybe taking her mother’s crazy pills. All three were appealing.

She stared at her reflection in the automatic doors for a second, wincing at her unbrushed red locks dangling in her pale face. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, or anything fancy. Cheryl shuddered. She truly had hit rock bottom. _She was a mess._

 _Breathe._ She thought. She couldn’t lose it now. Not when Sheriff Keller was aimlessly snatching at leads and thought she was the mastermind behind all of this. But was she? That's what Cheryl kept asking herself. She had managed to forget an entire day and was the last person to see Kevin Keller. It really didn't look good. Not to mention the scrap of something she had found in her jacket pocket. She was still betting on it being hospital scrubs. Which made her wonder; what the hell had she been doing at a hospital and why did she forget?

Cheryl inhaled deeply, before exhaling. She was going to find out. Without hesitating or looking back to see if the mysterious Asian guy had reappeared, she strode into Gencare’s main reception.

‘Can I help you?’ As as soon as Cheryl set foot in the building, her heels clacking on the white marble floor, a tall woman with a blonde ponytail greeted her with a smile which didn't reach her eyes. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ Cheryl nodded and folded her arms across her chest. The smell was almost overwhelming now, tickling her nose as she fought to breathe in the putrid stink.

‘Yeah. Can I talk to reception please?’ She was aware that her voice was trembling, and she bit her lip but the woman only nodded.

‘Right this way, ma'am,’ she said, and led Cheryl across the exquisite welcome area where cream couches sat around deep brown mahogany tables covered in what looked like lifestyle magazines.

The woman pointed over to a reception desk below a spiral staircase. Cheryl nodded a thanks to the woman and made her way over to the desk.

‘Excuse me?’ She cleared her throat when a man turned around with a bright smile. Cheryl felt her chest squeeze when she saw he had red hair. _Chill out._ She told herself. But the more she looked at him, the more her stomach cartwheeled. The man looked to be a few years older than her. He had a wide smile and brown eyes. She couldn't help thinking of that kid who went missing. Archie Andrews. The man looked like an older version of him. But Archie Andrews had been missing for a month now. Cheryl shook her head, biting back a groan. _What the hell was wrong with her?!_

‘Young lady?’ The man snapped her out of it. He was frowning at her blankly. ‘Do you have an appointment?’ He asked but the man’s voice felt a million miles away. Cheryl could smell it again. It was getting stronger the further she delved into this place. She cleared her throat and grinned.

‘Uh, I actually don't!’ She laughed lightly, as if chastising herself for being so _silly._

‘But I'd like to book one please!’ She smiled hopefully. The man regarded her with raised eyebrows before nodding and typing into his computer.

‘Of course!’ He shot a bright white smile at her and Cheryl fought against a flinch. Archie Andrews. That's all she could see, no matter what angle. She cocked her head slightly, squinting, when the man looked away. But she still saw the red-haired teen. Cheryl shivered. _This was getting way too creepy._ She thought, trying to ignore the shivers sliding down her spine. ‘Name?’ He asked, and Cheryl started to panic. She couldn't use her own name, her family would never forgive her for visiting a public dentistry when she had her own private one. She briefly ran over random names in her head, but the only ones that surfaced were those of the missing kids.

‘Yes of course, my name-’ Cheryl internally groaned. Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews were stuck to the back of her throat. She ended up squeaking out a mixture of the two. Though to her relief, her mind had quickly got to work making it sound believable. Well, more believable than the names of two missing kids. ‘Jenny Andrews.’ She practically spat out the name like word vomit and immediately regretted it when the man’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

‘Okay,’ he said and started typing again. He looked up at her with that damn smile again. ‘Is there a specific date you'd prefer, Jenny?’ The man wasn't asking for her ID. He wasn't asking for payment, and he wasn't questioning why she had taken a full minute to say her name. Maybe whatever sixth sense that had suddenly taken over her was right. Did Gencare really have something to do with the teen disappearances? Better yet, she thought; why were they letting a minor book an appointment without parental guidance, or even her driving license? ‘Miss Andrews?’ The man smiled at her, and she felt multiple shivers running down her spine. The man almost like he was teasing her. She narrowed her eyes.

‘Whenever,’ she said, her tone hardening. The man stared at her for a few moment, as if testing her, before he nodded and smiled. He looked back at his computer screen.

‘We have an open appointment for tomorrow at 11am?’ Cheryl nodded, and the man smiled brightly, clicking on his keyboard for a little longer before hitting what Cheryl presumed was the ENTER key a little bit too forcefully. ‘Okay, Jenny. Just to confirm. You have an appointment to see Doctor Luke Tanzeni tomorrow in room 305,’ he frowned at his computer screen before his brown eyes flickered back to hers. ‘Could you give me some symptoms that I can put on your record?’ Cheryl stared at the man as if he was speaking a foreign language. He only shrugged a little. ‘It's just so the doctor knows a brief summary of what's causing you discomfort.’ he smiled, reassuringly. But Cheryl saw something else in his eyes. Amusement. He was challenging her.

‘I have sharp pain in my wisdom teeth,’ she lied. ‘Also, it hurts when I eat.’ The man tutted.

‘Oh dear,’ he shook his head as he clicked away at his keyboard. ‘That does sound awful, Jenny.’ he said. Cheryl saw the smirk just about grace his lips and suddenly had an extremely overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. Whether he resembled Archie Andrews or not. Though she had pressing matters. How the hell was she going to get a look around?

Cheryl’s turned her head, looking for some kind of way in. She had seen it on TV. The protagonist managing to infiltrate the evil co-operation by doing some cloak-and-dagger bullshit. She was wearing heels, and wasn’t exactly wearing the best clothes for blending in. Cheryl ended up watching a nurse in light-blue scrubs make her way across the reception before greeting a patient. She was so busy trying to figure out what color hair the woman had. _Was it strawberry blonde? Maybe she hadn’t dyed her roots in a while?_ When a shock-wave suddenly hit her, and her stomach vaulted into her throat. Cheryl swallowed and turned fully, squinting at the woman. But it was no longer her hair color which drew the girl’s attention. The material of the nurses scrubs. It was almost an exact replica of the scrap she had pulled out of her pocket. _No wonder the place stunk of that damn smell._

Cheryl shuffled uncomfortably. Surely she was over-reacting. It was just a nurses uniform. But- but the color. The material. She had a scrap of it in her jacket pocket and had been the last damn person to see Kevin Keller. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence. Could it be that- that Kevin and the others were really here? She flinched when a sudden noise attacked her head, like static. Like a radio signal had suddenly been plunged through her skull. Cheryl lifted her head, listening out for some kind of intercom announcement but she felt the hairs on her back stand up when the receptionist didn’t look up from his computer. It happened again; a _krshhhhhh_ noise that seemed to latch itself onto her mind.

_'Cheryl!’_ The voice was suddenly just _there_ , having come from nowhere. It simply settled into her mind, and for a second, she was sure she was hearing things. Though it was strange. The voice sounded like it was awakening from a deep slumber with a shallow intake of breath accompanying it. But... it was in her _head._ The voice, the gasp of breath. She had heard it inside of her skull. No. She told herself. Just like with the weird Asian guy. This wasn’t real. This was _not_ real! _‘No, no, Cheryl! It is real! Listen to me!’_ He gasped, as if managing to collect himself. He sounded shocked himself. _‘It’s real.’_ He said softly. It took her a few seconds to realize who it was. Cheryl had to clamp her mouth shut to stop the scream suddenly growing in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Not real_. She thought desperately. But- but it _was_ real. She had heard him as clear as day, as if the boy was standing right next to her. She could hear Archie Andrews - the missing boy, in her _head._ The boy let out a frustrated breath. ‘ _Cheryl, you need to help us,’_ He whispered. She winced when his voice came out in a hushed breath; ‘ _I know you’re scared Cheryl, I know you think you’re hearing things, but you’re not. You need to help us. We don’t have much t-’_

Then his voice was gone. Just like that. It felt like the very feeling, the physical entity that was Archie’s voice, had been dragged forcefully out of her mind. Followed by a sudden screech of static. Then, there was just silence. Cheryl stood for a second, too afraid to move. The receptionist _click click clicked_ on his keyboard, and it was a welcome distraction- anchoring her to reality. But it wasn’t enough. She felt her chest tighten once again. Suddenly, it was way too hard to breathe. She had to inhale quickly, before exhaling but her chest was too tight. Her stomach was rolling with nausea and she had to grip the sides of the desk to stay upright.

‘I-’ she started to say something along the lines of; _I think I’m going crazy_. But she somehow managed to piece herself back together, even when her eyes were burning with tears. It couldn’t have been real. _He_ couldn’t have been real but how could something imaginary sound so agonizing? She felt his pain, his desperation. She still felt it running through her, as if it was purposeful. ‘I’m sorry,’ she forced a smile at the receptionist who was taking far too long to book an appointment. He looked up, and his face fell.

‘Miss Andrews, are you okay?’ _No_. She thought. She felt her throat dry up, her chest convulse. No way was she going to start crying in front of the grinning bastard but she was shaking. Her mind felt _empty_ as if she craving Archie’s voice back. Just once more. Just to prove she wasn’t losing her fucking mind. Cheryl forced a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks.

‘Do you have a bathroom?’ She asked, waving her hand in front of her face. She puffed out a breath. ‘I’m sorry, I feel a little sick.’ The man’s eyes widened.

‘Oh of course!’ He exclaimed. ‘Just go up those stairs where the surgery rooms are, and it’s the first door on the left. You can’t miss it.’ He eyed her for a second, and Cheryl was suddenly paranoid that she really _was_ going to throw up. ‘Do you need a bucket?’ The man glanced at the sparkling marble floor, looking a little sick himself. Cheryl shook her head, and danced away from the desk, slamming her hand over her mouth just for show.

‘No, I’m okay!’ She squeaked and ran to the stairs, clacking up them in her heels.

‘Miss Andrews, if you vomit on the floor, I’m afraid you’ll be cleaning it up!’ The man yelled from below. Cheryl scoffed and didn’t answer, climbing higher. It didn’t take long for her to reach the top, and there was the ladies. Just like the man had said but Cheryl ignored it and rushed past, finding herself on an empty corridor dotted with different rooms. There were comfy looking chairs seated outside each one. _Cosy_. She thought, frowning at bright paintings placed on the walls.

‘Archie?!’ Cheryl plugged one of her ears with her index finger and waited for the crackle of static, for the screech of feedback but there was nothing. Only her labored breathing, and the distant sounds of a dental drill going to town on some poor soul’s teeth.

Cheryl gave up with summoning the boy, or at least his _voice_ and took a few shaky steps forward, down the corridor. She winced when her heels clattered loudly on the marble flooring, and pulled off her heels, dunking them in a nearby trash can. They were her favorite Valentino sandals. _She could totally come back for them later._

‘Archie, come on!’ She hissed as she continued down the hallway, barefoot. ‘How the hell does this thing even work? Where are you?!’ Every step sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t even want to think about some dentist coming out of his office and spotting her. Archie was gone. Whatever _had_ been there, shouting into her mind, was just silence. Cheryl felt her heart sink. Maybe she _was_ going crazy. She sighed. ‘Archie, come on, please,’ she murmured. Though still- there was nothing. No trace that the boy had even been there, crying out in her head. She spotted an elevator at the end of the corridor and padded over, punching the fancy gold button on the side. The doors slid open, and she hesitated for a second, before stepping in. Cheryl stared at the keypad, highlighting floors for floor 1, 2 and 3. Though there was an extra button at the bottom. She reached out to press it, but realized the damn thing was locked. There was a keyhole etched into the button. Cheryl groaned and leaned back against the elevator doors. _There was a secret floor_. She thought, almost letting out a laugh. This building was full of cliches. But Archie Andrews had cried into her head, practically screeching that he was _here_. That he needed _help._

Cheryl went over the boy’s words in her head. Though it was the first time she actually listened to them, they had been repeating over and over in her head like a stuck record ever since the redhead had first landed in her head, like a bolt of lightening striking her. _You have to help us._ He had said, and Cheryl swallowed. It wasn’t just him. She could bet that Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones and Kevin Keller were with him. Though a straying thought hit her. Was it the first time she had heard him? The day she had forgotten; had she figured this out _already? Had she-_

_already heard Archie?_

All signs pointed to yes. When she had first woken up, Jason’s bright red hair had terrified her, but she didn’t know _why._ The way her own brother had held her. She had sensed something else, a suppressed memory where she had struggled against a red-head. Had that been where she had ripped the scrubs? The scrap of cloth? Cheryl straightened up, suddenly hyper vigilant. The memory was faded, as if it had been purposely pushed into the back of her head. But she saw it. She felt her breath catch in her throat when her own voice, choked with pain, suddenly invaded her thoughts.

 _‘Archie,’_ she gasped. ‘ _Archie, please stop!’_ Though it wasn’t just her voice that came back. It was the feeling. The feeling of slowly being drained of the memories she tried to hard to keep hold of. Memories that Archie had taken. _She remembered._ Archie had been the one to take them.

_The feeling of his fingers pressing against harshly against her temples, keeping her in a grip so strong she couldn’t move her head. Though she was somehow strong enough to push him back for second, ragging at his clothes- the thin blue scrubs clinging to his skin. She tore off a shred before stuffing it into her pocket. Cheryl felt like she was being drained of everything; her thoughts, her breath. And when she opened her eyes, just as she had been on the edge of consciousnesses;there he was. Archie Andrews. The missing jock. The boy she thought was dead. He was staring back at her; wide brown eyes filled with confusion._

 _'Cheryl?!’ He gasped, and it was the exact voice. It was the voice that had attacked her in the reception. But his lips didn’t move. She only heard his hissed whisper in her foggy mind. But she was falling, and before she knew it, his face was blinking out of existence as she stared into the backs of her eyelids. But there was his voice again. Just before she inevitably met darkness. ‘No, no, Cheryl!’ He cried desperately._ Her heart broke. She could feel his agony, the pang of hopelessness overwhelming him, making him sob harder. _‘Cheryl, you need to find us! You- you need to get my dad, get Kevin’s dad!_ His voice had been so desperate, reaching out to her, crying out in her mind. Yet she had simply slipped away, as her memories had been picked apart one by one.

Archie Andrews had picked apart her memories like it was a hobby of his. Cheryl let out a shaky breath and opened her eyes. The lights in the elevator blinded her, and she squinted, shading her eyes. He was real. It wasn’t Kevin’s clothes she had torn at. It was Archie’s. He wasn’t a lingering symptom of Psychosis or a figment of her imagination. Archie was alive and had been the one to wipe her memory. _Damn, Archie Andrews_. She thought shakily, hoping he was somehow listening. _When I do manage to find you, remind me to kick your ass._

All this time she had left herself a clue which would trigger her memory. Though now her mind had been unlocked, with all her suppressed memories coming back. She was battered with knowledge that she had ultimately forgotten. She saw splinters of different memories piecing themselves back together. Kevin Keller- his frightened face as he frowned at her, eyes wide. With her memories rushing back came the ones of Kevin. His frightened face as the two of them stepped warily into Hadfields as the too bright lights washed against Kevin’s pale face. _‘They’re dead aren’t they?’_ He had whispered, his voice choked up. Kevin Keller had been sure so his friends were dead and gone. Yet here Archie was, speaking directly into her skull. _‘What do you mean there’s no footage?’_ Kevin’s voice randomly rang out, making her cringe.

The memories came thick and fast but none of them made sense. She was seeing black and white CCTV footage of the missing kids; Archie and Jughead. Her own scarlet fingernail pressing the stop button on what looked like an ancient VCR. Then her own battering hands on a door, her loud shriek; ‘ _I want to see my father!’_ She was screaming, throwing herself against a door - _against the back room in Jughead’s work_. ‘ _Kevin!’_ She was crying out for the boy, choking on her tears. _Her father_. He was in on it. He had known about everything; about the kids going missing, about Kevin vanishing. He had stood next to her back at home and told her sheriff that she had nothing to do with it. He had assured Archie and Betty’s families that their children were safe. When he knew all along that she had been there with Kevin, and that Kevin had been the latest victim.

Cheryl bit hard down on her lip to stop the screech building at the back of her throat. She couldn’t think of her father right now because she knew she’d break. He was her flesh and blood. The man who had brought her into this world. Though apparently, he wouldn’t mind casting her out of it. Cheryl had been the last person to see Kevin Keller because she had been with him, investigating into his friend’s disappearances- and he had been taken too. Her father had lied not to protect her, but to cover up whatever heinous crime he had committed. Cheryl started to panic then. Was her whole family in on it? Is that why Jason wasn’t returning her calls? Because he _knew_ where Kevin Keller and Archie were? Were her whole family part of some kind of sick kidnapping ring?

Cheryl’s hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone but she didn’t know who to call. Who to trust. She found herself staring hard at her phone screen, blinking back tears. She was tapping out _911_ when a familiar voice shocked her back into verisimilitude.

‘Hey there.’ The voice shocked her and Cheryl’s head snapped up, her heart starting to pound, when she found herself staring at- Cigarette Guy. He was casually leaning against the elevator mirror. He smirked at her, his eyes playful. He straightened up with a smile. ‘Not to be cliche,’ he grinned a little, and gestured around. ‘But I told ya I’d see you again in the elevator.’ He said teasingly. Cheryl stared at the boy, and no matter how hard she tried to see _him_ \- Cigarette boy. The kid who had annoyed the hell out of her this morning, and had been eyeing her up across the road.

But she was seeing someone else entirely; Cheryl had already met him but Archie’s mind-wipe had cleared the boy from her mind- until now. Now she remembered the cocky smirk plastered to his face as he barged in front of her when she tried to get out of the security room. She saw it in quick flashes; how he had grabbed her, snaking his arms around her waist and yanking her backwards, so she couldn’t escape. So she couldn’t get to Kevin. Before he had left her to a trance-like Archie who she could still remember. He had been standing in the doorway, half hidden by shadow. When he had stepped into the light, his cheeks had been pale and gaunt, his brown eyes black and unseeing had forced her onto her knees and taken everything away. The fact that Kevin was gone, the security footage with Archie and Jughead, and of course- finding him alive and _not exactly well._

 _Kevin._ Cheryl remembered the look of agony on his face as he’d blankly stared at a screen displaying no footage. _The footage she had seen_. She saw flashes of Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews on a static screen in black and white. Silhouettes underneath the sun’s shadow. Kevin never saw what happened to his friend before ultimately joining them. For some reason, that shredded her heart. Though how the hell had Archie Andrews managed to wipe her memory? _Never mind talk directly into her skull?_ She knew he was real now, not a tragic ghost or hallucination haunting her. Archie was real, and talking into her head. Which, as far as she was concerned, was physically impossible. So how had Archie, a missing sophomore who was barely passing Chem, took away her memories?

The question still hung in her mind, unanswered. But Cigarette boy was still standing there, looking proud of himself. His lips were still pouted, as if still curled around the tip of his cigarette. _Reggie Mantle_. The name was suddenly uncomfortably lodged at the back of her throat, having resurfaced in her mind. She felt a sense of _fear_ coursing through her. That name- it sent electric shock waves running through her body. The memory seemed to be teetering at the edge of her consciousness, refusing to come to her. But then suddenly there was his voice. The more she pressed at it. It echoed in her head, a spiteful spit. _‘Me?’_ His laugh bounced around her skull, making her flinch. ‘ _Have something to do with those rich kid’s disappearances?’_ He was teasing her. ‘ _Never!’_

Reggie was smirking at her now, as if he had seen inside her head; watched her regain her memories. She stood still, well aware that she was trembling. She considered turning and making a run for it. But she couldn’t lose it now. Not when she was _so close_ to finding Archie and the others. Cheryl straightened up and forced herself to stay calm.

‘Reggie Mantle,’ she spat. She was surprised how steady her voice was, considering how much she was shaking. ‘Where are they?’ Reggie looked confused for a second, before his eyes widened comically.

‘Oh, you _remember_?’ He grinned teasingly. Cheryl shook her head, keeping her eyes narrowed. She couldn’t be afraid. She told herself. Reggie cocked his head. ‘Where are _who?’_ He giggled a little, and she felt goosebumps prickle on her arms and neck. But before she could reply, the boy was straightening up with his arms folded. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Cheryl Blossom, you’re hot,’ he grinned at her as he moved towards her. ‘But you’re not my type.’ She jumped back, instinctively, when he grew closer to her. Though he only sputtered out a laugh. ‘Relax!’ He held his arms up in surrender before stepping past her in front of the elevator panel which shined brightly, each floor button illuminating his smooth olive skin.

Cheryl didn’t move, choosing to wrap her arms around herself and watch the boy as he seemed to be sizing up the panel. He twisted his head and winked at her, before turning his attention back to the buttons. Each number was engraved intricately into a perfect circular switch. Though Reggie didn’t touch any floors **1 to 7**. Instead, he eyed the bottom button. The one which was locked.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Cheryl hissed. Though she kept her distance. Reggie chuckled.

‘I’m not here to talk, Cheryl,’ he murmured. To her confusion, Reggie placed his hand on the panel. Cheryl couldn’t help choking out a laugh.

‘What, do you think your secret mind powers are going to lock the secret floor?’ She asked. Though she didn’t make any move toward him. Reggie’s head bobbed up and down as he laughed. But he didn’t turn around. Cheryl grew frustrated. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she demanded, her voice breaking. _God dammit_. She hated how pathetic she sounded, but words rose to the back of her throat like word vomit. Reggie pressed his palm harder into the panel.

Cheryl bristled. A million questions were ready to roll off her tongue with no means of thinking before she said them. But the words got stuck at the back of her throat when she saw that the elevator keypad had suddenly illuminated a bright electric blue that lit up the boy’s smooth olive skin and the grin that broke out across his face. Cheryl stared, hypnotized by the light that seemed to flicker across the entire space. She flinched. _No._ The light wasn’t emitting from the keypad, or even the buttons. She looked closer, squinting her eyes so she was sure she wasn’t seeing things. But she wasn’t. And suddenly Cheryl Blossom wasn’t just _hearing_ things. Like Archie’s impossible voice breaking into her skull and sliding into her thoughts. She was also _seeing_ things.

_I’m crazy_. Cheryl thought. But she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away. Even when she was _sure_ she was seeing things. Reggie’s entire hand was lit up a mesmerizing blue light that writhed through his hand, down his wrist and streamed down his bare arms, illuminating his veins the same dazzling blue. It looked like the boy was playing with electricity. But he wasn’t flinching or crying out. Instead, Reggie Mantle stood perfectly still, smiling down as his hand exploded with brilliant striking blue light. Cheryl opened her mouth to say something along the lines of; _what the fuck did you just do?_

But before she could manage coherent words, she was interrupted by the loud _ding!_ of the elevator. The mechanics rumbled, and the whole thing jolted sharply. Cheryl held on for dear life, while Reggie only removed his hand and turned to smile brightly at her. His hand had stopped glowing like some kind of superhero. Cheryl stared, baffled.

‘All done!’ The boy said cheerily. The lift shuddered again, and the button indicating the bottom floor on the keypad flashed a bright green. Cheryl didn’t have time to choke out questions she desperately needed answering, because the boy was suddenly delicately jumping out of the elevator, and to her horror, the doors slowly began to slide shut.

‘No!’ Cheryl bounded forward, intending to grab and yank the boy back, but she was only able to grasp thin air. She straightened up, gasping for breath, her heart in her chest. Reggie raised his hand in a wave, before giving her a two-fingered salute. Cheryl growled in frustration, but the doors were already slamming shut and she stumbled, flailing her arms to keep her balance when the elevator began its slow descend. ‘Reggie!’ Cheryl battered on the metal doors but to avail, before stopping to catch her breath. She glared at the keypad as the buttons lit up one by one.

Floor **1 -** Cheryl felt the elevator fly past it and her heart vaulted into her chest. **Floor 2.** Cheryl turned away from the keypad, steadying her hands to keep herself upright. She had to _think_. But her mind was on hyper-drive, with her returning memories. She knew only a few things that were definite; Reggie Mantle had unlocked the bottom floor, allowing her down there. Which meant whoever ran this place, whoever had kidnapped Archie Andrews, Kevin Keller and Betty Cooper- _They were expecting her_. She shivered. Another thing she was certain of. Archie and the missing kids were _here_. They were right here, and she wasn’t crazy. It wasn’t her mind going on a mindless wild goose chase. For whatever crazy reason, she had developed a sixth sense and had been able to track them down. Somehow. Though strangely, the whole _sixth sense_ thing didn’t scare her as much as it should have. She could hear voices in her head. Voices that weren’t ghosts, or her own crazy hallucinations. It was a boy who had been taken and needed her help, and she _heard him_. Not just this time too. Before the asshole wiped her memory, she had found him. She had found Archie Andrews alive, and he had made her fucking _forget_. Though she couldn’t deny the impossible right now. Not when Reggie Mantle’s hand had lit up like something off of a Marvel movie. Cheryl knew she was spiraling. She was digging into her thoughts trying to find answers and solutions, so she didn’t have to think of the descending elevator which was nearing the last floor.

_Nothing made sense._ Cheryl leaned against the glass of the elevator, her dark eyes on the floors lighting up one by one. She started to wonder if the elevator was doing it on purpose. As if it could detect the anxiety twisting her heart and gut. Cheryl squeezed her arms tighter around herself for comfort. What was going on here? She couldn’t help wondering. Why was her father and _god knows who else_ taking teenagers? How could Archie talk into her head?

Relentless thoughts continued to batter at her brain, as she delved for more memories. Except they were all in pieces. Fragmented bits and pieces flying around her head waiting for her to put them back together. Cheryl nearly jumped out of her skin when the elevator rumbled and once again she was clinging onto the walls to stay upright. But she was startled by the loud _ding!_ of the mechanics, announcing her arrival. Cheryl felt her breath catch in her throat as the doors slid open. She stood there for a moment, not moving. She was too scared. Terrified that someone was going to stride into the lift and grab her. But after a few seconds of staring out into the what looked like an empty dim-lit corridor, Cheryl took a few shaky steps forwards, wincing at the sudden drop in temperature.

_Stay calm._ She thought to herself. She was going to find Archie and the others, drag them the hell away from here, and then _fuck_ , she was going to have a serious conversation with Sheriff Keller about her psycho family, who thought they could just go around snatching kids.

Cheryl gagged when the smell suddenly hit her. Though even if she did expect it, since that’s where the rag- or a scrap of Archie’s hospital scrubs had some from- it still caused her stomach to somersault and her eyes to sting. Cheryl pressed her hand over her mouth and nose, blocking out the overwhelming stink of antiseptic. _Why was it so strong to her?_ Did the Crazies that ran this place use bleach as an air freshener, or was she stupidly sensitive to the stuff?

Cheryl shivered, her bare feet teetering on the threshold between the steely floor of the elevator and the hallway. She noticed the difference automatically. Upstairs where the patients were, where all the business was, there had been the exquisite reception area with it’s spiral staircase, carpeted flooring and fancy lighting. Also there had been the almost overwhelming relief of heating practically caressing her the second she stepped foot in the building. But not down here. Instead, the bottom floor felt abandoned. She still felt like she was outside in the October chill. The only reason Cheryl dropped the thought that it was abandoned was because of the clinically white corridor stretching for what seemed like forever. It was illuminated a dim orangeade glow from flickering lights on a ceiling that desperately needed re-painting.

There were ten doors, five each side spread out down the hallway, which was deadly silent. They were also lit up the same dim orange glow like the corridor. Cheryl shivered. It was like something out of a horror movie. The doors were each labelled with a metal name-plate neatly nailed into the peeling wood.

**Doors 1A to 10.** Cheryl squinted, leaning out of the lift to read a sign on the wall, with an arrow pointing down the corridor. She felt like she was in an old fashioned hospital. Cheryl slowly stepped out of the elevator, wincing when her bare soles met the clinical white marble flooring. She wished she kept her heels on. Cheryl held her breath and stayed vigilant, before slowly starting to pad down the hallway. She reached the first room; **1A** , and risked a glance inside the small viewing screen, though the glass window was so high she had to stand on her tiptoes to manage to peek in.

Cheryl didn’t know what she expected. Dungeons? Caves? She was half expecting to see the serpent boy mopping the floors inside. She wouldn't put it past her father to capture teenagers to force them to do manual labor. Except the South-side kid was nowhere to be seen. Instead, it seemed to be just a simple dentistry room. There was the familiar reclining chair and table of silver instruments glinting in the subdued, orange light. _Strange_. It just looked like a slightly run down version of upstairs. Cheryl held her breath as she moved onto the **1B**. But it was the same thing. Almost the exact same replica of the first room. Cheryl let out a hiss of frustration as she sneaked peeks at **1C** and **1D.** But every single room was the same. Right down to the chair being exactly the same position, the instruments placed delicately on the surface of the table. It was _too_ perfect.

‘ _Archie?’_ Cheryl hissed, in her head. Maybe it worked both ways? If he was able to somehow get in contact with her through simply _talking into her head_. Maybe she could do the same? ‘ _Archie, where the hell are you?!’_ She hissed, continuing down the hallway. Her arms started to prickle with goosebumps as the temperature dropped further. Her heart started to thump against her chest. Cheryl spotted a door at the end. It was larger than the others, with the viewing window spreading across the entire top half of the door. Cheryl ended up skipping the last few doors, and found herself drawn to the one on the end. She reached it, breathing heavily, before raising on her toes to press her face against the glass. This time it wasn’t an average dentist surgery. Cheryl wanted to look away, but she couldn’t.

Inside the room looked like a doctor’s surgery. There was a desk, a variety of machines she presumed were medical. But what caused her heart to nearly beat out of her chest was when she saw two of the missing Riverdale teens sitting back-to back on what looked like an observation table. They were both wearing the same blue scrubs as Archie. Though they looked like they had been dragged through a bush backwards. The scrubs they were wearing were disheveled and dirty. Their bare arms were decorated with coloring bruises. Cheryl felt like screaming. They were alive. The kids who had been missing and were presumed dead by pretty much the whole town ( _“They’ll be floating in sweet-water by now_!”) were _alive_.

She recognized Betty Cooper straight away. Though her hair was longer and wasn’t in its usual ponytail. It was instead in straggly knots hanging in the girl’s face as Betty hung her head. The boy was Jughead Jones. The South-side kid who had been taken a few weeks ago. He was slumped like Betty, his head of dark hair bowed, as he too seemed to either be asleep or staring at the floor. Cheryl got over her initial shock, and found her voice. She started hammering on the glass.

‘Betty!’ She cried, punching harder at the glass window. Cheryl’s heart skipped when the blonde girl’s head whipped up and turned towards her, and- _oh._ She didn’t notice the boy’s head snapping up also, his muted yell of frustration as he attempted to twist his body to see her.

For a second, all of Cheryl’s worries dispersed, and she could only stare at Betty Cooper. Elizabeth Cooper who she had known since they were kids. _No._ She wouldn’t fucking cry. Not when she had gotten this far. But she couldn’t help it. Her father- was a monster. He had taken Betty and- _and what? Scooped her eyes out?_ Cheryl found it hard to breathe. Betty Cooper’s right eye was gone. In its place was a heavily bruised crevice, a dark black hole where her eye should have been- but it wasn’t.

Betty stared right back at her, and for a second Cheryl caught the look of _embarrassment_ on the girl’s face. _Shame._ Before Betty’s eyes lit up with realization. _Cheryl?_ The girl mouthed, her eyes widening in horror. Fright. Cheryl could only nod.

‘Don’t worry!’ She yelled, not caring who heard her. ‘I’m going to get you the hell out of there!’ But to her surprise, both Betty and Jughead started shaking their heads and struggling with- _with what?_ They weren’t tied up, so why couldn't they move? _No!_ Jughead yelled at her. His dark eyes were fierce. For a second it looked like he was concentrating on her, glaring right through her. Betty was gesturing with her head wildly, her knotty hair flying around her face as she repeatedly mouthed; _Go!_ Though Cheryl shook her head. ‘Are you crazy?!’ she yelled back. Jughead looked like he was crying out with frustration. He struggled, turning to her, and Cheryl resisted the urge to run. His eyes were dark. Haunted. He glared at her. _Fucking go! Now!_

Cheryl tried the handle on the door, letting out a hiss when she saw it was mechanically locked. It needed a key card. She pressed her face against the glass once again, and there they were; Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones staring at her looking petrified. This time they weren’t screaming at her. Instead they simply stared. Betty ducked her head and started to cry, and Jughead struggled like crazy. But whatever it was that was keeping them together was refusing to let go. Cheryl felt helpless.

‘I- I don’t know how to help you!’ She cried, her voice echoing down the corridor. Betty and Jughead however, were no longer looking at her. Their heads dropped at exactly the same time, and at first she thought it was some kind of synchronized sobbing. But when she looked closer, none of them moved. They only swayed limply, as their heads stayed ducked down. Cheryl swore before battering on the glass. ‘Betty?!’ She cried. ‘Hey, Betty!’ She slapped the glass again.

‘ _Cheryl.’_ The voice made her jump, and she turned away from the door, expecting to see Archie standing behind her. Except then there was the crackle of familiar static in her head that made her wince. ‘Cheryl.’ His voice sounded different. No longer desperate or terrified. Instead, he sounded almost- _playful?_ No matter how hard she tried to block it out however, Archie’s voice was settling deep into her consciousness whether she liked it or not. _‘Cheryl, follow my voice.’_ He murmured.

‘Cheryl!’ Betty’s faint cry could be heard from the room she and Jughead were in, but Cheryl found herself not caring. Archie chuckled in her head, and she revelled in it. His voice was suddenly so sweet, so calming. Cheryl turned away from Betty and Jughead’s room, and her legs started to move in a random direction. Though she wasn’t entirely sure where she was going.

‘ _It’s alright,’_ Archie murmured softly in her head. ‘ _I’ll guide you. Just follow my voice.’_ Something inside her told her not to listen to him. Every instinct managing to escape Archie’s hypnotic murmur told her to turn and run. But her legs were on autopilot as Cheryl followed the red-head’s voice while it winded her down a different hallway which she hadn’t noticed. She stared down at her pale feet as she placed one in front of the other. Even when her body was fighting to turn around and make a run for it. The smell grew stronger as she walked. But it didn’t bother her anymore. She didn’t try and block it out inhaled it, letting her lungs fill with the toxin. Betty and Jughead’s muted cries eventually faded to a dull vibration in her ears just as she found herself standing in front of two white doors labelled **TESTING ROOM 2A.**

' _Come on in.’_ Archie giggled in her head, and she found herself smiling. _Yes, that was funny_. She mindlessly pushed open the door and stepped into another what seemed to be a small theater. She spotted Archie Andrews as soon as she had stepped over the threshold. he was standing in the middle of the room, staring at her with the same blank, expressionless eyes as before. Next to him was a dark haired girl sitting on an observation table, swinging her legs playfully. The girl grinned at her, her eyes half-lidded. A part of Cheryl, the bits clinging onto sanity and that weren’t under Archie’s control, automatically recognized the dark haired girl. It was Hiram Lodge’s daughter. Hiram Lodge’s _missing_ daughter, Veronica. Archie chuckled in her head. _Don’t mind Veronica._ He murmured. _We’ve had to calm her down a little. She was far too unhinged._

Cheryl found herself nodding, before her gaze tore from the drugged up girl, to a second observation table behind her. There was a boy lying on it, sprawled out. He was wearing the same thing as the other four; washed out blue scrubs. Though she recognized him automatically.

Kevin Keller. The sheriff’s son. He was unconscious, his expression peaceful. Cheryl let out out a shuddery breath, regaining control over herself.

‘Kevin?’ She rushed forwards, her heart in her throat. Veronica didn’t move, only continuing to swing her legs like a five year old. Her eyes were dilated. Cheryl hurried to the boy’s side, her legs shaking. _‘Kevin was a failure, Cheryl.’_ Archie droned in her head. There was no empathy in his voice for his friend. She wanted to demand _why?!_ But she still felt the boy’s presence settled over her mind, lulling it from freaking out. _‘We intended for him to become our first Phoenix, but something went wrong,’_ Archie explained, his tone sounding colorless. Robotic. _‘His body rejected the stitching program, and he’s dying.’_ Cheryl felt her heart stop.

‘And what the _hell_ do you want me to do?!’ She whimpered, her voice teetering on the edge of hysterics. Archie hummed softly in her mind.

 _‘He’s suffering, Cheryl.’_ Cheryl felt tears start to glide down her cheeks but she didn’t wipe them away. He wouldn’t let her. _‘End it for him.’_ Archie said, and she was suddenly seeing the flash of silver in front of her. There was a medical saw lying on the instruments table next to Kevin. She swallowed and tried to take a step back, tried to yank her mind back from Archie’s control. But he had her in a vice grip. _‘Kill him.’_ He said, and when she shook her head, choking on her tears, his voice grew louder, a thunderous rumble inside her skull; _‘Kill him!’_ He roared. The intensity of his voice, of his tone rooted deep inside her skull jolted something inside her. Before she could _think_ or hesitate, she was reaching forwards and grasping the knife. Veronica giggled behind her. But she couldn’t turn around, she couldn’t speak. Her lips had been sewn shut. Cheryl could only watch in slow motion, snapshots, as she raised the medical saw point down, and without a second’s hesitation, she was plunging it into Kevin’s chest. The second she had realized what she had done, Cheryl was dropping the saw and stumbling backwards. Just as Archie was letting out an inhalation of breath in her mind. It was familiar. She’d heard it before. When he had wiped her memory and woken up from his trance.

‘Well done, Mr Andrews.’ A sudden voice crackled over an intercom. ‘Really, Archie. I should stop taking advantage of your skills.’ The voice chuckled. 'Hello Miss Blossom. Your father would like a word with you. We’ll be right down.’ Veronica, who was still sitting on the observation table, let out a squeal.

‘Hi daddy!’ Cheryl registered the man’s words, but they felt faint. Like they were being spoken underwater. She only stood, still standing over Kevin, staring at the gaping wound in his chest that she _had_ done. I killed him. She thought suddenly. The realization struck her. She felt herself freeze up.

‘ _Cheryl'_ Archie said softly, almost questioning if she was really here. ‘ _Oh god, Cheryl!’_ She turned to see him staring at her, his brown eyes wide with confusion, before his gaze landed on Kevin. There was a growing smear of red seeping through Kevin’s clothes, but the boy didn’t move. Cheryl managed to regain her ability move and staggered backwards, feeling the vice grip, the hypnotizing fog that had enveloped her mind, let go. Disperse. Then she felt strong arms around her, dragging her backwards.

‘No!’ She managed to splutter through her tears, but his voice was suddenly in her mind, and it was a twisted cry, an unearthly screech so loud she could barely think straight. It was Archie. He had lost the sadistic robotic drawl in his tone, making way for a very human cry of pain _._

 _‘What did you-’_ He let out a cry, before he scrubbed at his eyes with his fists. Cheryl realized he wasn’t talking to her. But she was too busy screeching inside her head to care what he was doing.

_I killed him._ She thought over and over again. The words hit her hard, and she felt her entire body sway, like she was going to collapse. Though Archie caught her. The red-head wrapped his arms around her, burrowing his head of greasy curls in her shoulder. He was sobbing. She realized. But it was _in her head_. His whole body trembled with sobs. But she fought to claw out of his grip.

‘Get- get off me!’ She screamed. But his grip was tight. His strength made her lose her breath. ‘Kevin- we need to-’ She was spluttering through her own tears, when Archie’s voice was soft in her mind. Calm.

‘ _It’s okay_.’ He said softly. _‘He’s going to be okay, Cheryl.’_ He murmured, and she let out a frustrated hiss.

‘What are you talking about?!’ She shrieked, managing to pull away. She rushed to Kevin’s side. Cheryl let out a strangled sob and pressed her hands against the wound in his chest, but there was so much- _there was so much blood_. Archie pulled her away, and she batted her fists against his chest. Her throat couldn’t conjure words. Kevin was dead. His skin was pale. When she pushed the red-head away and pressed her ear against the boy’s chest, there was no heartbeat.

 _‘Cheryl.’_ Archie pulled her away from the boy, and forced her to look at him. She did, after he grabbed her face and held her gently. Archie’s eyes were bloodshot and his lips were pressed together, like he was trying hard to keep himself together. ‘You have to trust me, okay?’ When she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut and mumbling that Kevin was gone- _that he was dead_ , he held her face gently, his brown eyes boring into hers. ‘ _He’s going to be okay.’_ He said, and his voice broke, Cheryl only stared back at him in confusion. Was Archie crazy?! Kevin was dead! Archie was already moving forwards, scooping Kevin into his arms.

‘ _Ronnie,’_ he murmured, and the dark haired girl happily hopped off the observation table and wandered over. Cheryl half wondered how exactly Veronica Lodge could hear Archie. But she couldn’t think of that right now. She followed Archie as he carried Kevin over to the door, groaning with effort. _once again; in her mind._ Veronica skipped over, her dark hair bouncing up and down. Cheryl had to do a double take when she saw the punctured holes in the girl’s head where her ears should have been. She thought back to Betty with her one eye, and mute Archie only being able to talk into her head.

Cheryl felt bile rise to her throat. _What had her father done to these kids?_

 _'We’ve got about two minutes,’_ Archie said. ‘ _Betty, Jughead? Where are you?’_ Cheryl could only watch Kevin as he hung lifelessly in Archie’s arms. He was dead. She was sure of it. Why was Archie carrying dead weight? Cheryl felt like she was floating. Like the only thing driving her forward was her urge to get out. Get the others out.

‘ _Andrews, he’s dead!’_ She squeaked, following Archie’s hurried pace as he and Veronica rushed out of the theater, and back onto the endless hallway. Archie stopped dead and twisted around, furrowing his brows.

 _‘Which room is that?’_ He hissed. ‘ _Jughead, you're breaking up!’_ Cheryl frowned in confusion.

‘Who are you talking to?!’ She whimpered as she continued to follow him, her legs tangling underneath her. She nearly fell forwards, but Veronica was grabbing her hand, swinging it like a child. She was still under the influence of whatever they had drugged her with. Archie didn’t reply, only turning a corner and rushing over to the same door Cheryl had been at earlier. Room **2A.** Archie was still holding Kevin, and gestured at the door, turning to Veronica.

‘ _Do you think you can get it open?’_ He gasped out. ‘ _Do you think you can break the lock?’_

The girl frowned for a moment, before nodding slowly and stepping forward. Veronica turned to Cheryl and motioned for her to place her hands over her ears. Cheryl stared back at her, baffled.

‘Why?’ She hissed, but complied. Her mind was racing with confusion. Archie was insisting on carrying Kevin’s _corpse_ around. And the boy was- he was dead. He was _dead!_ He was crazy. She decided. They were all- They were all crazy. Including her. Cheryl risked a step forward, her bare feet sliding on the marble flooring, as she peeked into room with Betty and Jughead inside. They were still sat back-to back on the observation table, their faces lit up as they watched Veronica. Archie let out a shaky breath in her head.

_‘We’re gonna get you out. Just- cover your ears.’_

Was he talking to them? The thought slammed into her like waves of icy water. He couldn’t just talk into _her_ head, he could talk into everyone’s. Her head spun. Archie Andrews was fucking impossible.

 _Are you crazy?! We can’t!_ Cheryl wasn’t the best lip-reader, but she could tell that’s what Jughead mouthed back, his expression crinkled with annoyance. Archie took a shaky step back, stumbling with Kevin’s weight. He ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Cheryl stared at him.

‘What?’ She asked shakily. She kept her gaze trained on Veronica, waiting for the girl to pull out a key-card but she only stood and glared at the door.

‘ _Ronnie, I know they did something to you and you’re not yourself, but can you please hurry-’_ Archie started to say, but his voice was suddenly drowned out by a wail- a cry she couldn’t distinguish from her thoughts. Veronica Lodge’s mouth was open wide as she screamed. Archie let out a yelp in her mind, but he managed to stay upright, Unlike her. Cheryl was hitting the floor before she consciously knew what was happening. Her hands were pressed against her ears but the noise- the _screech_ rattling in her ear drums wouldn't let her go. It only held onto her, squeezing her skull until she finally let out a cry, forcing her head into the floor. She felt the floor underneath her rumble and jolt, the walls and ceiling start to tremble. _‘Veronica that’s enough, you've done it!’_

Cheryl was sure her ears were bleeding, but she managed to lift her head and stared, her eyes widening in confusion and fright as the door that had previously stubbornly caged Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper, had been completely ripped off of its hinges. She felt dizzy as Veronica yanked her to her feet. Her eyes were still wide and dilated, but the girl was mouthing something over the tinny ringing in Cheryl’s ears. _I’m sorry_. The girl was saying, over and over again.

Cheryl managed to nod shakily, before turning and watching as Archie Andrews settled Kevin gently on the floor before rushing into room **2A** and swooping Betty into a hug, before wrapping his arms around Jughead. Though the two of them were still stuck to the table, seemingly bonded together. Archie wandered over to a computer monitor and fiddled with it for a second, before Cheryl stared. Confused. She swore there was a _shimmer_ in the air in front of the two. Before it blinked out of of existence. The second the two of them were free, they jumped off the table and hurried over. Jughead burrowing his head into Archie’s shoulders, Betty, sobbing, followed in his wake. They seemed to melt into each other and if Cheryl wasn’t so upset and confused about Kevin, she would have smiled.

Though the three of them seemed to come to the same realization, and turned, swollen eyes, to the motionless boy lying on the floor. Veronica had already knelt next to him.

‘Kevin.’ Betty whispered. She pulled away from the sweet embrace and fell to her knees next to her friend, and ducked her head _,_ filthy strands of her hair falling in her eyes. Archie followed her, keeping hold of Jughead’s arm and pulling him along.

 _‘He’s been Stitched.’_ The boy said softly. Everyone seemed to hear it, and Cheryl was having a hard time processing that aspect. It was like the four of them had some kind of messed up hive-mind.

_Stitched? What the hell did that mean?_

Finally; she found her voice. After standing frozen, watching the four of them reunite.

‘What the hell is going on?’ She choked out. Archie shook his head, scratching the back of his head.

‘ _Later.’_ He murmured. ‘ _We need to get out of here.’_ He picked up Kevin again, and the boy’s head lolled in his arms. Cheryl couldn't take it any-more. Archie was clinging onto the boy, as if believing the sheriff’s son was going to magically come back to life. But it didn’t work like that. That was _impossible_. Though hadn't she already seen the impossible? _Archie picking apart her memories and talking into her head. Reggie’s glowing blue hands- Veronica ripping a door off of its hinges just by screaming?_

‘Cheryl, your phone.’ Betty was speaking to her, and she hadn't even noticed. She blinked, turning to the blonde. She was having a hard time processing that Betty only had one eye. But the girl looked desperate, her lips twisted in a grimace. ‘Can you call the police?’ She hissed and Cheryl snapped out of it, nodding. She reached into her pocket for her phone and pulled it out.

‘ _Betty, did you manage to-’_ The blonde cut Archie off.

‘I can see them,’ Betty murmured. ‘It’s okay, I’ve put a block in Luke’s head. He doesn’t know where we are.’ Archie nodded.

‘ _Okay, then we do this now.’_ He said.

Jughead let out a breath of relief. He and Archie were watching over Kevin, though she didn’t understand what they were waiting for. The south-side boy lifted his head to look at her, his dark eyes once again boring into hers. 

‘Sh-sheriff Keller,’ The boy said, struggling with speech. She was still afraid of the way he looked at her, like he was trying to move the air around her. It took a moment for the boy to articulate the words; ‘R- ring Sheriff Keller.’ Cheryl nodded. Her hands were shaking as she tapped on the sheriffs number in her phone book. She lifted the phone to her ear, and heard the dial tone. Her stomach dived into her throat.

‘Hello?’ The sheriff’s voice sounded on the other end, and suddenly Cheryl was overcome with emotion. She turned away from Archie, Veronica, Betty and Jughead leaning over Kevin’s bloodstained body and managed to choke back a sob. ‘I- I’ve found them,’ she managed to splutter. Suddenly she didn’t know what to say. She had found them- and _what?_

Cheryl glanced at the dead boy, still sprawled in on the floor. She swore his skin had taken on an orange tint, almost a glow. Cheryl shook her head and twisted away. _I’m going mad._

 _'I've found the missing kids, and they’re different, Sheriff Keller. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Oh god, I think- I think I’m going crazy.’_ That’s what she wanted to say. What was choked at the back of her throat. But she swallowed and hissed into the phone.

‘Just get here!’

‘What?’ Sheriff Keller hissed down the phone. ‘Cheryl, Where are you?’ Cheryl composed herself and took a deep breath but her chest convulsed with sobs no matter how hard she tried to stop them.

‘Sheriff, you need to get down to the Gencare Dentistry right now.’ She forced the words out. There was a pause, before the call suddenly went dead. ‘Hello?’ Cheryl frowned. ‘Sheriff Keller?!’

 _‘Cheryl, what is it?’_ Archie had picked Kevin back up, but the boy was wincing, his face twisting with pain. Jughead frowned. ‘Arch?’ he murmured. But the redhead shook his head. ‘ _It doesn't matter,_ He said, his gaze going to her. ‘ _Cheryl, what happened with the sheriff? Did you tell them to get here?’_ Cheryl nodded.

‘I rang him.’ She said softly. ‘But-’ She shuffled uncomfortably. ‘The line went dead.’ Betty frowned at her.

‘Cheryl, what do you mean it went dead?’ Cheryl didn’t have an answer. She was sure the sheriff had hung up on her. Did he think she was messing around? Playing some sort of game?

‘We- we need to get out of here.’ Betty said. ‘I can’t see Luke any-more.’ Cheryl was about to question what ' _seeing Luke'_ meant. But the intercom above their heads suddenly crackled, causing the five of them to freeze.

‘Elizabeth, stop.’ The voice commanded, and Cheryl recognized it.How could she not? The voice sent shock-waves through her. _Alice Cooper._

‘Mom?’ Betty squeaked. All the fight had drained from her expression and she suddenly looked like a lost little girl. ‘Mom?’ She demanded again, her voice breaking. ‘Is that you?!’

‘Elizabeth, I want you to listen to me.’ The woman said softly over the intercom. ‘Kevin Keller is dangerous right now. Archie, put him down.’ She said. ‘Do you understand me?’ Cheryl found herself stumbling away from Kevin. 

But apart from her, nobody moved. Betty let out a sob. She suddenly seemed completely incapable of words.

‘I said get back!’ The woman yelled, her voice exploding into static. Jughead took a slow step back, dragging Veronica with him. But Archie and Betty stayed frozen.

Archie shook his head a defiant _no_ and clutched Kevin tighter to his chest. But he wasn’t speaking. Cheryl caught a stray tear sliding down his cheek.

_‘Are you there too, dad?’_ His voice was like an explosion in her mind, like the boy was purposely trying to blow out her brains. But she recognized the pain and confusion and _agony_ in his voice. She heard his silent pleads to any god that was real, that would listen; _‘Not you dad,’_ Archie moaned in her thoughts. ‘ _Not you.’_

There was a pause, before the intercom crackled again. Though this time whoever spoke through it- their voice was swamped by the sound of Betty Cooper’s cry. Though it wasn’t aimed at her mother. It rang out, just as Kevin Keller still curled in Archie’s arms, jolted suddenly, before his clothes started to catch fire. Cheryl stared baffled. Archie let out a soundless hiss and dropped the boy, who fell on his back. But a glowing inferno of oranges and yellows started to climb up his arms and legs, his torso. Archie grabbed Betty and the two of them staggered away. Alice Cooper tutted over the intercom. 'Now stay exactly where you are.'

Fire. Kevin Keller was on fire. But not just that- it was consuming him, catching his hair alight, crawling across his face. But he wasn't screaming or crying. He was still unconscious. Jughead was first to speak. 'What did _-'_ He grabbed Betty, yanking her back when the girl tried to dive at the boy who was _on fire._ 'What did you do?!'

Another voice, a male this time, spoke over the intercom, and Jughead let out a sharp cry.

'We fixed him.'


	9. Poltergeist

Ever since he was twelve years old, Jughead Jones had to look after himself because his Father couldn’t. FP Jones would go out all hours of the day and night and come back steaming drunk; it got to the point when Jughead was used to it. He was used to the empty bottles and cans strewn all over the floor and the stale smell of vomit coming from the bathroom. He learned to swallow his tears and stay quiet. He never once asked his father the reason why he got paralytic-drunk every single damn night. Gladys Jones, Jughead’s Mother, had left and taken his little sister but once again; he didn’t ask why… Well, he kind of guessed it; his Father was a dead-beat and an alcoholic.  
  
When Jughead was Stitched, he cried out for his father. He screamed for him as the anesthetic took hold of his mind, dragging him from one nightmare to the next as the buzzing took a strangle hold of his skull and not even Archie’s reassuring murmur could convince him it was all going to be okay. When the agony of the Stitching had torn apart his mind; as three signals were forced into his brain; when he felt at his absolute lowest – all Jughead wanted was his Father to come and rescue him. Even though there was a prominent thought at the back of his mind; _he probably doesn’t even know you’re gone._  
  
Yet Jughead had still soundlessly called out to him, pressing his face against his pillows reeking of antiseptic. Jughead Jones just wanted his Dad to save him from the monsters that were forcefully taking his humanity. Who had already taken Archie, Betty and Veronica’s… but it had been too late. He had become part of what he had once called ‘The Mutant Freak Force’ – he had had his brain torn apart by greedy scientists, greedy monsters. As it turned out, ironically; his Father was one of them.  
  
 _He was a monster too._  
  
Jughead sat cross legged on clinical white tiles, exactly the way they had ordered him to sit like he was five fucking years old. Jughead tried hard not to look up; he was trembling, unable to keep his body still. No matter how hard he clenched his jaw, his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. He kept his gaze on the floor. His eyes were stinging and he wanted nothing more than to use his ability, the freakish mutation they had given him, and smash his Father against the wide screen behind him. He imagined it in vivid detail and clenched his fists tighter in his lap. It was a surprise they hadn’t restrained him like they loved to do. He had been stuck in a field of energy, one of Luke’s little tricks, stuck back-to-back with Betty Cooper, for hours. Now he was here, in a small cell. This time there was no bed. Not even a damn hatch in the door for food and water like his previous 5* oubliette. Huh. _Oubliette_. What a fancy word. _At least he was still a smart-ass in his head._ There was no anything but this time, he wasn’t alone. Archie, Veronica and Betty sat next to him. They were also cross-legged. He felt pathetic, like a dumb kid; sitting there like the naive little kid he was, awaiting more instructions from his Father who he had trusted his entire life. I mean yeah, FP sucked but Jughead still loved him. Even if sometimes he asked himself why he did. Why did he make sure his Father had a hot meal? Why did he rub the man’s back when he was throwing up his rent’s worth of booze into the toilet? Because no matter what, he was Jughead’s Dad.  
  
 _Or not._ Jughead thought bitterly, because his so called “Waste of a space Father” was standing directly in front of him looking like a different man. Jughead felt tears choke in his throat but he refused to cry; he wouldn’t give the asshole the satisfaction. Dad. He thought; Jughead felt lightheaded. The Father who was supposed to be searching for me; that’s what Kevin Keller had told him. That his Father had never stopped looking for him. Yet…here he was. Jughead narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. FP Jones stood in front of the glass separating the four “dangerous kids” from their parents. Well, Jughead and Betty’s parents.  
  
‘Dad,’ He said, forcing out a laugh. He noticed FP wince and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and felt a presence in his head; It was a combination of Archie, Betty and Veronica.  
  
 _‘Don’t do anything stupid,_ ’ they murmured, as one. When he turned his head to glance at them, the three of them were staring ahead at the man- their interrogator. His Father. Who apparently was a fucking scientist. _Who would have thought?_  
  
_‘No, I want to speak to him,’_ he murmured, as if in a dream state. Before they could stop him, he was already spitting venom at his Dad; he couldn’t help it. Until then, he’d been paralyzed with fear, with confusion. ‘You did this?’ He managed to spit without stumbling once. For a second, he swore he caught a flash of pride in his Father’s eyes. FP smiled softly.  
  
‘I knew you’d push through the defect, Son.’ When Jughead only glared at his Father, FP sighed. ‘It’s called Brocus Aphasia, Jug.’ It was, surprisingly, Veronica Lodge, still slightly high on whatever the hell they had given her, who spoke next.   
  
‘What the hell is that?’ FP smiled a little and Jughead imagined picking up his Father by his hair and repeatedly smashing him into the viewing window.  
  
‘What we did to you, Jughead. We impaired the Broca area in your brain-’ FP hesitated a little. ‘So you would find it hard to articulate speech.’  
  
‘You’re disgusting,’ Betty whimpered. She was slowly inclining into Veronica’s shoulder, her voice choked with sobs. It had taken her nearly an hour to calm down. ‘Where’s my Mother?’ FP ignored the sullen girl. His gaze focused on Jughead.  
  
‘I understand you’re mad about what they- about what… we did to you, Son-’ _About what you did?_ Jughead wanted to cry out but his tongue was twisting, the words he wanted to project at his Father, sizzling away in his mind. What had his Dad called it? Broca Aphasia. Jughead did what he always did, post- stitching. He sounded out the words in his mind, and forced them, like a physical entity, through dry lips.  
  
‘About what- did?’ He hissed, mentally chastising himself for stumbling again.  
  
‘Jug-’ FP started to say before Veronica cut in.  
  
‘You can’t justify anything you’ve done,’ she murmured, almost dreamily. She glared at the man and Jughead felt a sense of pride flow through him. She was Veronica Lodge. The girl he had been thrown into this nightmare with. But hell, she was a friend. They were all friends. Or even some kind of messed up dysfunctional family. FP chuckled and before Jughead, or a disgusted looking Veronica, could get a word in; FP was already rushing to explain himself but Jughead wasn’t listening. Instead, he had sandwiched himself between his thoughts and clung onto Archie’s voice in his head as the boy murmured softly into his skull.  
  
 _‘It’s okay. Just stay calm. Ignore him.’_ But the way his dad was speaking, so formally. Like he had been hiding under a facade for Jughead’s entire life.  
  
‘Telekinesis..’ FP said, and that was when he switched off, when he soundlessly cried out into his mind for his friends for their comfort. Archie, sitting next to him, leaned into him reassuringly.  
  
 _‘Block him out, Jug,’_ the redhead mumbled _. ‘Do you want me to shut him up?’_ Yes. He thought but then he backtracked. No. Some messed up part of him actually wanted to know but FP had stopped speaking and was now frowning at his son, his eyebrows pushed together.  
  
‘Do you understand now, son? Why I did it?’ Jughead scoffed. He would never understand. His eyes were burning with tears now, he quickly bowed his head, letting his chin rest on the neck of his scratchy v-neck shirt. ‘Jughead,’ FP murmured through the speaker and he felt a pang in his chest. His father sounded patient. Soft. Professional. ‘Look, I know you’re upset right now-’He only laughed out loud, biting back a sob. _Don’t you dare cry._ He hissed at himself. Don’t you lose it. Jughead tried to say more but of course the words were scrambling on his tongue and getting mixed up in his broken brain. He wanted to say so much but right then, he couldn’t string a sentence together. Not even a string of confusing muffle-speak he had been reduced to.  
  
Because of his Father. He realized. His father had been in on it all this time. He’d probably watched Jughead’s surgery, watched him screeching into his pillow, begging them to kill him or rip his brain out when the buzzing started. Jughead glared at the man. FP Jones. His Father - who had been nothing but a stumbling drunk his entire life. Yet there the guy stood with perfect posture. He had shaved. He wore a navy blue shirt, jeans, and a startling white lab-coat over the top. Jughead could have laughed. His Father - who the kids at kindergarten laughed and chattered about because he turned up to pick up Jughead stinking of stale beer with yesterdays clothes on; drowned in cheap cologne to try and disguise the smell. That was when Jughead’s Mother had been away at a business conference, so it had only happened once but the memory still haunted Jughead.  
  
‘What’s wrong with your Daddy?’ Some kid had asked curiously and he’d ducked his head, trying to hide the shame. Jughead was intelligent for a little kid. He understood. He heard his Mother scream it at him almost every night; then came the last time, just before she left with Jellybean. Jughead felt like he was staring at a different man. In fact, that’s what he prayed. That he was looking at a completely different guy. The last half hour had been playing over and over again in his head. Cheryl and Kevin being taken. Cheryl was probably being Stitched. Kevin? God knows.  
  
All he remembered was being too confused and scared to try and help them. But the voice on the intercom, the one that had frozen him in place. His Father. FP Jones. Insisting that they had fixed Kevin Keller… His father and Betty’s mother too. Everything had gone so fast. He had been petrified into place as he watched Kevin Keller burst into flames. He had watched a human boy, a friend of Archie and Betty’s, just… combust. But it wasn’t just Kevin…. It was the voice stuck on a record in his head; ‘Jug,’ his father had murmured. ‘Step back, okay? Kevin’s going to be fine.’

~*~

  
  
And then his world had splintered.  
  
First, there was no sound; only a dull vibration in his ears because Jughead had lost himself for a second as his Father’s voice crackled through the speakers, startling the five of them. Archie had dropped Kevin who had erupted into a blur of orange and then- then…his Father. His Father’s voice had come through.  
  
No. He told himself. He was hearing things… Yet he had to know. Jughead didn’t know how long the feeling lasted. The feeling of being dragged underwater by a weight pulling you further and further under the depths but it was long enough for him to slowly start to register the voice that had come through the intercom. That had ordered him to step away from Kevin Keller. It was his Father but not the one he had grown up with. He was an imposter.  
  
Yes, that’s right. Jughead thought, dazedly, as he stared dumbly at the Keller boy who had transformed into Johnny Storm. The voice wasn’t his Father; it was an alien imposter, a creature from another planet who had taken his Father and took his place. No matter how crazy the theory was, Jughead would rather believe it than reality because the reality was that his Father, FP Jones was one of the bad guys. Jughead was aware of a fire in his head, burning in his skull. Shrieks and cries from Betty, Veronica and Archie combined. They were doing it without realizing it. Screaming. Yelling. Crying. Jughead had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from letting out his inner agony. Though he felt theirs. He felt Betty’s pain, as she battered metaphorical hands against his skull and howled for her Mother.  
  
The Mother who betrayed her, who was part of all this. _Along with… along with his Father._  
 _Don’t think about it._ He hissed at himself. If he did- he knew he’d break down and that’s not what he needed right now, even when his legs felt like they were going to give-way and all he wanted to do was cry out for his Father, scream at the asshole. Eventually, the blurry monotone shield that had enveloped his mind, senses and all, burst, and he was welcomed back to what he was pretty sure was now hell.  
  
‘Fine?!’ Cheryl Blossom’s screech pierced through and he was suddenly well aware of heat scouring his flesh. Burning him but he didn’t care. The vixen haired girl grabbed him and yanked his useless body back. She was still yelling at his Father. ‘What the fuck are you talking about? He’s on fire!’  
  
‘Move away from him, Jughead.’ FP had ordered, snapping him out of it for a second. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the vivid stream of oranges and yellow billowing from Kevin Keller’s still body. Jughead’s Father’s voice was stern but gentle. ‘You too Archie.’ And…he had. He had listened to his Father, no matter how angry and upset and betrayed he felt. He had grabbed Archie and Betty, and dragged them backwards away from the flaming boy. Veronica was already standing a safe distance away with Cheryl; the two of them gaping at Kevin Keller. Kevin, who wasn’t moving; he just lay there peacefully, as his entire body- hair, clothes and all- was enveloped in vivid yellows and oranges. So bright, so tantalizing, he’d nearly lost his footing; Cheryl Blossom had managed to catch him. She too had been glued to the ground, her green eyes wide in fright as she watched Kevin- crumble. He didn’t stop. Even when Betty screamed and screeched at her Mother, desperately trying to get to the boy but Jughead, Veronica and Cheryl held her back.  
  
Jughead had been too scared to call his Dad, to tell him to save Kevin, because yelling for his Father, actually coming to terms with the fact that his Father was part of the sick organization that did this to him. He couldn’t. The four of them had pressed themselves against the wall, with Archie holding onto Betty for dear life. Cheryl had been hammering on the door, begging for help. And eventually- help had come. None other than Kevin’s Father, Sheriff Keller, swooped into the room with a syringe like some comic book villain. Jughead felt his head spin senselessly. The Sheriff? His foggy mind questioned. As soon as Betty saw him she tried to lunge at the man, a whirlwind of blonde hair, her lips stretched into a screech.  
  
‘You?’ She shrieked. ‘You’re with them too?’ She choked out a hysterical laugh. Veronica had held her back. The Sheriff had knelt next to his son and stuck his hand, right through the flames engulfing the boy, piercing Kevin’s neck with the needle. It took a few seconds but eventually the flames started to dim, started to die. By the time the fire had died around Kevin’s body, Jughead had a hard time breathing. Kevin lay there, and his chest rose and fell like a normal human being but that’s not what he was…anymore. Because he was still…he was still him. There were no burn marks, no melting flesh. Even the gaping wound in his chest, the one Jughead had been sure had killed the boy. It was gone. The only trace of Cheryl Blossom plunging a medical saw into his heart, were the blood splattered scrubs still clinging to his slim frame.  
  
Jughead had only stared- well they had all stared. Archie gripping onto his hand, with one arm around Betty, and his other hand clutching Veronica’s- as Sheriff Keller scooped his Son into his arms and carried him over to the door. Before he left, he turned and looked at Archie and Betty.  
  
‘I’m sorry, kids,’ he murmured and Betty had spluttered out a laugh.  
  
‘You’re sorry?’ She spat, lunging forwards again. Veronica had to tug her back with a warning hiss but Betty was stronger; she yanked away from Veronica and Archie. ‘Where’s my Mother?’ She asked softly. Dangerously. When the Sheriff didn’t answer, Betty let out a shaky breath. ‘Mom?’ She whimpered, tipping her head back and staring, wide-eyed at the ceiling. At every corner, every tile.  
  
‘I’m here, Elizabeth.’ The woman’s voice crackled through the intercom, and Archie let out a hissed breath, speaking for the first time in Jughead’s mind;  
  
 _‘My dad,’_ Archie whispered. _‘He’s not here, Jug. Oh God, hes not here. He’s not… he’s not with them.’_ He sounded broken and when Jughead turned to him, the boy’s head was bowed, his red hair dangling in his eyes. He was sobbing. Jughead felt his anger at Betty’s mom, his terror for Kevin- but the most overwhelming sense of relief that Fred Andrews wasn’t part of it.

Betty didn’t speak; she only stared wordlessly at the small camera connected to the ceiling. Her eyes narrowed.  
  
 _‘All this time,‘_ she whispered in Jughead’s mind _. ‘She was watching me. She saw everything… she saw… she saw…’_ Betty broke once more and instead used her lips _. She saw her own Daughter have the surgery,_ Jughead thought. He felt numb. Like his Father had probably watched as Luke Tanzeni delved into his skull. No. He buried that thought deep in his head. He wouldn’t think about it. _He wouldn’t!_ Jughead heard the screech building inside of Betty; he could sense it the walls she had carefully built around herself start to crumble.  
  
‘Elizabeth, calm down,’ Alice Cooper murmured through the speaker. She tutted. ‘I’ll speak to you when you feel a little better.’ She cleared her throat. ‘They need to cool down. Harrison, put them in confinement.’  
  
‘Confinement?’ Betty hissed.‘What, like we’re animals, Mom?’  
  
‘If that’s what you’re going to act like, yes.’ The woman replied, coolly. The Sheriff nodded to Alice’s request. Kevin’s head lolled in his arms as he jerked around, and Jughead took an instinctive step back, his arms twitched. He lifted them slowly. Keller glared at him.  
  
‘Don’t bother, Son,’ he grumbled. ‘Unless you want to be in solitary confinement for a week.’ Jughead gritted his teeth but lowered his arms. The urge to lunge at the man was overpowering. Even if he wasn’t allowed to use his powers, he’d get a good strangle hold around the man’s neck. Kevin Keller’s Father. The man who had given the go-ahead for his son- his SON to be torn into. Stitched beyond repair. Just like them. He had once been a frightened kid looking at Jughead as if he was some kind of freak. The exact same look he had given Archie Andrews when Jughead was taken.  
  
Jughead felt sick.  
  
Sheriff Keller sighed like all this was so tiring.  
‘Alright, kids. No funny business. Got it?’ None of them moved.  
  
‘Harry.’ Alice hissed from the speaker. ‘Can you get Kevin down to the theater now?’ She sounded impatient. The sheriff nodded. He pointed at Jughead, Archie and Veronica holding a still-sobbing Betty. ‘You four,’ he said. ‘Stay.’ Archie let out a laugh in Jughead’s mind and he winced.  
  
 _‘Are we dogs, Sheriff?’_ He spat but it didn’t affect him as much as it normally did. Everything, as much as he told himself he was perceiving it properly- everything was a slow moving blur around him. Only one thought dominated his mind at that very moment. And it felt like his lungs were being suffocated. He could barely breathe.  
  
 _My father is working with them._  
  
‘Less of the attitude, Archie,’ Kevin’s Father grumbled before his dark eyes moved to Cheryl Blossom, who was still standing, frozen solid. Jughead half-wondered if she had actually transformed into a statue. ‘Cheryl,’ he murmured, his tone lighter. ‘Come with me.’ He held out his hand for her to take it but the girl didn’t move. The man growled impatiently. ‘Cheryl, your Father wants to talk to you.’ Cheryl still didn’t move. Jughead wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. Her gaze was glued to the boy in the man’s arms. The boy who should have burned to ashes. Sheriff Keller sighed again. ‘Cheryl, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Your Father is waiting. Come with me now.’  
  
The girl finally seemed to snap out of it; she blinked and her green-flecked gaze flickered to the sheriff.  
‘I want..’ she rasped, her voice was choked at the back of her throat. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’ The man nodded.  
  
‘Of course, Cheryl. Your father will explain everything.’ And to Jughead’s surprise, the girl straightened up and nodded, taking the man’s hand before he dragged her out and slammed the door. Leaving the four of them alone. Well, not exactly. Now Jughead could no longer run away from the voice on the intercom. He couldn’t drown out his thoughts because there was just silence. There was just the four of them pressed into the wall like caged animals, and Jughead’s Father on the speaker. And then Jughead had to face fact, once the voice shattered his drums. The cold hard reality.  
  
My Dad’s working with them. Before he knew it, the thoughts were swamping him. He felt his heart speed up. Jughead started to feel faint, remembering the viewing screen in the room they had kept him after his stitching. His Father had stood there and watched him scream and cry and beg for them to kill him.  
  
‘Alright guys,’ FP Jones’ voice came through loud and clear and Jughead felt a little piece of himself snap.

  
  
‘Let’s get you into confinement.’

  
  
Jughead blinked himself out of the memory, just in time to hear his Father’s voice once again. He’d drowned out whatever he had been saying. His mind was occupied. Archie, Betty and Veronica’s individual panicked thoughts collided with his and he found himself thinking about Kevin and Cheryl- were they okay? Was Cheryl going to be Stitched? He lifted his head slowly. His neck ached and he was pretty sure his cheeks were tear-stained. He didn’t want to look at his Father but somehow he ended up disobeying his own mental promise to himself. Jughead glared through the glass viewing screen at FP Jones as he stood, still with his arms folded as he studied the kids with a frown.  
  
‘Anyway, I’ll leave you kids to get some rest,’ the man murmured through the speaker and Veronica let out a hysterical sob.  
  
‘Sleep?’ She stated, gesturing wildly around the empty room. ‘Where the hell do you expect us to sleep?’ Though FP only shrugged.  
  
‘The floor will do,’ he said. ‘I’ll get someone to provide blankets if you’d like?’ Betty only swore loudly, and Jughead felt a little piece of him marvel at the girl’s bravery. He didn’t think he had ever heard her swear before. Sweet and innocent Betty Cooper who he had figured had completely shattered knowing her Mother had been the one pulling the strings. Jughead sensed the girl’s thoughts swirling around her head relentlessly as she glowered at his Father. _She’s one of them_. She whimpered. _My Mother orchestrated all of this._  
  
 _Coward._ Jughead thought, bitterly. His Father wasn’t even going to stay after his half-assed attempt at explaining the so called “science” behind what exactly he had done to his own son. Jughead wanted to scream it. The word bubbled in his throat but like every other damn word, it seemed to disperse before he could pluck up the courage to cry out. FP didn’t say anything more. He only nodded his head at Jughead before turning and walking away. His arms still folded against his chest. Say it. Jughead told himself. And suddenly the word didn’t seem that hard to say- if he really… if he really sounded it on his lips and physically forced it. Jughead jumped up once he knew his Father was gone and lunged at the screen, slamming his fists against the glass.  
  
‘Coward!’ He screamed, when he was sure the word wouldn’t become jumbled and muddled in his throat but even when his scream carried and bounced against the walls of the large chamber they had been thrown in, the dimly lit corridor was quiet outside. Jughead pressed his face against the glass. He knew he was crying. He knew the sobs were strangled at the back of his throat but he couldn’t stop himself. He was yelling it over and over again, smashing his fists against the glass and wishing- wishing - he could break through the wall separating him and his Dad. So he could- So he could what? Attack him? Throw his arms around him like a little kid and demand answers? Jughead was still battering the glass of the viewing window when a hand gently gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Archie. The boy was stood behind him, chewing on his lip, his arms wrapped around himself for comfort. Or maybe he was cold. It wouldn’t surprise Jughead if there was no heating in the cell. Archie didn’t say anything at first and it was oddly comforting, though Jughead found himself wishing that the by would really talk.  
  
‘Jughead!’ Veronica hissed. She had curled up on the floor, letting the blonde lay her head in her lap as she sobbed quietly. ‘Can you stop?!’ She growled in warning. Jughead didn’t stop. He pummeled the glass until he was breathless, until his fists were bruised and he had on overwhelming urge to throw up. He was screaming the word in his own mind, battering their minds as the word stabbed at the three of them relentlessly. _Coward. Coward. Coward. Coward!_  
  
 _‘Jug, stop.’_ Archie said in his head. It was a gentle murmur but there was an edge to it. _‘You need to calm down, okay?’_ Archie reached for his arm but Jughead jolted away like he had been shocked. Jughead stopped attacking the glass and let his arms fall to his sides before he crumbled to the floor. The tiles were freezing cold but he didn’t care. He sat with his knees pulled to his chest and wrapped his arms around them and pressed his face into his lap. Blocking everything out. Even if he could sense Archie sitting down next to him, he blocked the redhead out. He blocked Betty’s sobs out, both in his head and rumbling in his ears. Then came a sense of Déjà Vu. Jughead had been through this before. The exact same ordeal. Except it had been in the van, when he was first taken. If he really concentrated, he could still feel the nausea twisting his gut into knots from the sloppy driving as the van swerved down the road as well as the stinging lesion’s in his wrist from the ropes keeping him restrained. Even Betty and Veronica were in the same position. The raven comforting the blonde. That’s what he had seen them as at first. The Blonde and The Raven girl. Now they were so much more. He knew them inside and out now. He knew their fears, their hopes and dreams. He knew that both of them had been betrayed by their Father- and now he had been too.  
  
Jughead let out a shaky breath and allowed the tears to stream down his face but he didn’t make a sound. He made sure of it. There had been exactly two instances in his life where he had allowed himself to fully breakdown in front of someone. This wouldn’t be one of them. Like the van- time seemed to be a foreign concept in what Alice Cooper, Betty’s Mother, had called Confinement. The four of them ended up sitting dotted around, wrapped in their own personal misery with the main concern being; they were going to freeze to death. They were only in paper hospital scrubs and Jughead was sure his face was starting to go numb from the chill.  
  
Eventually a guard came and threw a bunch of cotton blankets through the door, and Betty and Veronica curled up under one of them but Jughead didn’t move from the position he had been in for what must have been hours. He had been staring, dazedly, at the light blue material of his trousers, trying not to shiver. He was right. There was no heating. Archie had given up being stubborn and thrown the second blanket over his shoulders as he curled into himself. The redhead had tried to include Jughead a variety of times but Jughead only squeezed his knees tighter to his chest to stop himself from trembling.  
  
‘Stop.’ He growled, with his lips. Loving the way his voice sounded almost normal. He could almost pretend that he could speak properly again. Archie hadn’t argued, and after awhile, the redhead had given up. Instead cuddling close to him, letting him know the blanket was there if he needed it but he didn’t. Well, he did. The logical part of him argued but for a second he wanted to act like the child he was being treated like. If his Father cared about him, he’d switch the fucking heating on. Yet he hadn’t, and Jughead had actually found himself hoping he would.  
  
When Jughead was sure the others were asleep, he finally lifted his head up, only to be blinded by a the grating bright light beating down on him. He shaded his eyes, wincing and looking around. Everything ached, he could see his breath spiraling in the air in wisps of smoke but he only choked out a laugh. The others were asleep. Betty and Veronica had moved over to Archie, and curled up with him under the blanket. Probably to conserve body heat. Jughead found himself staring at the three of them pressed together, shivering, under the soft blanket, and suddenly he wanted to break again. His eyes stung. His chest constructed. He just wanted to curl up them and sleep.  
  
Plus. Warmth. He could sense the three’s thoughts. Even if they were quiet. Yet there was a feeling of tranquil swamping them. They were warm, they were calm. For once, they were asleep and not worrying. Not over-thinking like Jughead. Jughead ended up frowning at Betty as she pressed her face into Archie’s shoulder. She was still shaking. He didn’t know if it was from the cold or the trauma. Jughead eyed the blanket and found himself reaching out for it. His fingers were numb as he grabbed for the blanket but a sudden voice in rattling in his head made him yelp and jump backwards, falling on his ass. _‘Hellooooo?’_ He didn’t recognize it at first, as it bounced around his skull, startling him from his foggy stupor. _‘Jones, I know you can hear me, bro.’_  
  
He swore- that voice. There were millions of memories attached to it. School. The boy twisting in his chair, that damn smirk on his lips; ‘Hey, Jughead! Can you do my shift tonight?’ It was the boy who was better than him in almost every single way- and now possessed some kind of power. He was imagining things. There was no way he could be in Jughead’s mind. Could you hallucinate from the cold?  
  
Jughead stared hard at the floor, blinking hard. Man, he was cold. He grabbed a corner of the blanket and ducked underneath it, his teeth were chattering. He swore he felt Archie stiffen up and snatch the blanket back. Betty and Veronica let out twin sighs in their sleep, and he revelled in the the heat they had managed to conjure up under the blanket. Jughead might have slept. He was definitely tired. His joints ached. But just as he was burrowing into the floor, attempting to find some kind of comfortable- the voice was back. This time louder and striking. He startled, jumping up, the blanket slipped from his shoulders. It was real.  
  
 _‘Reggie?’_ He hissed inside his head. Part of him wanted to yell at the boy for- well, everything? Helping the bad guys from the start- pretending to be his friend, calling him crazy when-  
  
 _‘Whoa, I get it, Jones. Chill,’_ the voice muttered. _‘Anyway, we have plenty of time for you to kick my ass. Bottom line is I hijacked the weird gadget thing they use to hear you guys.’_ Jughead hissed out a breath but before he could say anything, the boy’s voice grew sharper, more hurried. _‘Look, I can get you out of here. Create a distraction and give me ten minutes, alright?’_  
  
 _‘What?’_ Jughead hissed back; his mind was racing. _‘How- how do I know you’re not playing some sort of game?’_ He spat, and Reggie sighed. The sound crackled in his mind and he winced.  
  
 _‘Alright, look. I just saw them set Keller on fire, alright? I’m pretty sure they’re Stitching the Blossom girl, and hey, they put you guys in sub zero temperatures,’_ the boy let out a little laugh. _‘Yeah, this aint healthy. I’m breaking us out.’_  
  
‘But-’ Jughead tried to say but Reggie cut him off.  
  
‘Ten minutes, Jones. Be ready.’ And then the line, or whatever had been connecting them- went dead. Jughead sat there for a few seconds. He had forgotten about the cold- the fact that his entire body was stiff with the chill. He turned to the others, who were still sound asleep.  
  
 _‘Guys?'_ He leaned forward and shoved all three of them but none of them moved. He noticed Betty had a tight grip of the blanket. Jughead let out a hiss of frustration. He chewed his lip and found himself staring at his hand. Might as well. He muttered to himself, mentally. He shuffled backwards and concentrated on the blanket covering the three of them before quirking his wrist in a clockwise motion. The blanket didn’t move for a second and he frowned, trying again. Move! He yanked mentally at it, grasping onto it with his mind. This time making a sweeping motion with his hand. To his relief, the sheet enveloping the three of them suddenly developed a mind of its own and was thrown across the room, hitting the wall and crumpling to the floor. Betty was first to sit up, her expression wild, strands of her blonde hair sticking to her face.  
  
‘What happened?’ Betty whimpered, she stared at him through her good eye.  
  
 _‘It’s okay,’_ he said softly in his head, when all three of them turned to frown at him, their eyes clouded with confusion, fear and exhaustion. Archie frowned at him through half-lidded eyes and dragged a hand through his tangled red hair.  
  
 _‘Jug?’_ He mumbled, blinking when the light hit his eyes. _‘What’s wrong?’_ Veronica seemed to be the only irritated one.  
  
‘Did you take the blanket?’ She mumbled in her real voice. She turned her head and spotted the cover lying on the floor. Jughead shook his head at her.  
  
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he murmured in his head, and the raven haired girl cocked her head.  
  
‘Uh, yes it does.’ She frowned. ‘Do you want us to freeze to death?’  
  
‘Distraction.’ Jughead managed to choke out. He was paranoid they were listening in on the thoughts. When Archie frowned at him, he sighed and looked at Betty. He really hoped the bastards weren’t listening in. _‘Betty, I need you to call your Mom in here.’_ He said softly, and when she started to shake her head, her blonde hair whipping against her pale neck, he bit his lip. _‘We need a distraction, Betts,’_ he murmured. Suddenly, Archie looked alert.  
  
 _‘Wait, a distraction?’_ He hissed. _‘Why?’_  
  
‘No time.’ Jughead told the redhead. He smiled hopefully at the blonde girl. ‘Do you think you can do it?’ Betty seemed to hesitate before nodding. She stood up shakily, folding her arms across her chest and shivering before walking over to the viewing screen. Archie started to follow her but Jughead yanked him back down. ‘If we all get up, it’ll look suspicious,’ he muttered. Archie looked torn for a second but nodded. Veronica crawled over to them, her eyes lit up.  
  
‘What’s going on?’  
  
 _‘If I haven’t put faith in an idiot, hopefully escape.’_ Jughead muttered in his head. He watched Betty press her face against the glass of the viewing window.  
  
‘Mom?’ She called. ‘Mom, are you there?’ Jughead held his breath, waiting for the crackle of the intercom but there was just the silence and a combination of the three’s labored breaths as they struggled in the bitter cold. Jughead thought back to the day he was taken. It had been a sweltering June day. He’d give anything to feel the heat on his skin, the familiar sticky sweat coating his forehead. Even the whiff of BO from his word t-shirt. ‘Mom?’ Betty said again. Her voice broke as she trembled, curling into herself as she ducked her head. ‘Mom, I’m- I’m so cold.’ She whispered. ‘Mom, please talk to me!’ The speaker sputtered with static before Betty’s mother cleared her throat.  
  
‘Elizabeth,’ she said, her voice flat. Emotionless. ‘Are you ready to talk?’ Betty nodded.  
  
‘Yes. Yes, I’m- I’m ready to talk, Mom,’ she said. The second she said that, Jughead nearly jumped out of his skin- shuffling into Archie and Veronica who were still sat by him, as the door to their cell opened and a tall blonde woman stepped through. Jughead frowned at Betty’s Mother. She didn’t – look - like a scientist, like a bad guy. She wore a pastel pink cardigan and low cut pink dress with matching heels. Her hair was fastened in a ponytail. The woman shivered and he caught a twist of disgust on her lips.  
  
‘I didn’t know it was so cold in here, Elizabeth,’ she said softly, stepping through the threshold. Her gaze momentarily went to Archie, who ducked his head. ‘Mr Andrews,’ she murmured before turning her attention back to her Daughter. ‘Betty, sweetheart,’ the woman’s tone softened once she saw her Daughter standing with her head bowed, sobbing. Jughead really hoped this was a distraction. Alice Cooper took a step forwards with her arms out.  
  
 _‘The door!’_ Betty was suddenly yelling out in his mind. _‘Jughead, hold the door open!’_ Shit. Jughead snapped into action and twisted around, focusing on the door before it could slam shut, and managed to grasp hold of it discreetly as he held it ajar. He puffed out a breath. The door was strong, holy shit. His ability wavered but with a sharp look from Veronica, and a reassuring smile from Archie, he held onto it with everything he had. He clenched his fists. _Stay._ He growled. Alice was inching closer to Betty.  
  
‘Honey, would you like a hug?’ She asked and Jughead saw Betty flinch, and then he sensed her in his head.  
  
 _‘This better work, Jug.’_ She muttered and he was suddenly taken aback. Was she acting? He watched the girl lift her head slowly and nod, as tears trailed down her cheeks. Alice let out a soft sob and opened her arms. ‘Betty, I had to do it.’ She said. Betty nodded and took a slow step forwards, letting out another choked sob. The blonde girl opened her arms as if to embrace her Mother but just as Alice was leaning in, Betty lurched away from the woman and winded her fist back. Jughead saw it all happen in slow motion. Alice Cooper’s look of realization as her Daughter’s clenched fist slammed into her jaw. She stumbled back with a cry but Betty was already holding her Mother’s battering fists down. ‘Archie!’ She yelled, and the redhead was nodding, hurrying over and kneeling in front of Alice’s struggling form. ‘Why Mom?’ Betty demanded, her voice broken but she loomed over her mother. Strong. Fearless. Powerful. Alice stared wide-eyed as Archie glared at her, she knew what was coming.  
  
‘No!’ The woman struggled. ‘Betty, I did it so you could be perfect!’ She cried. ‘Haven’t you always wanted to be perfect?’ Though the blonde only scoffed and walked away from her mother, joining Veronica at the door. Archie remained in front of the woman. He gently pressed his fingers against her temples. ‘Elizabeth!’ Alice hissed. ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me! Do you know how much-’ She stopped, when Archie increased the pressure on her temples.  
  
 _‘No offense Miss Cooper but shut the fuck up.’_ Jughead caught the woman’s look of alarm when she heard Archie’s voice in her head.  
  
‘But-’ Alice tried again, but Archie was in control.  
  
 _‘Don’t move,’_ he growled at Alice, and Jughead watched as he worked his mind-mojo on Betty’s Mother. The woman, after a while, stopped struggling and sat still, her head going limp. Archie shakily stood up, turning to the others. He caught Betty’s worried frown directed at her Mother and he smiled. _‘Betty, she’s just frozen until someone snaps the crazy bitch out of it.’_ He murmured in the three’s combined thoughts. _‘But I have no idea how long that’s going to last. We’re getting out of here now._ ’ Jughead wasn’t going to argue with that.  
  
 _‘Reggie’s gonna get us out,’_ he said, and he tried to ignore Archie’s look of alarm.  
  
 _‘Reggie Mantle?’_ The boy hissed. _‘The same psycho who kidnapped Kevin?’_  
  
 _‘Wow thanks.’_ They both startled when the boy’s voice invaded their thoughts. Archie shot a look at Jughead, who could only stare back. _‘Alright, boys. I’m down the corridor to your right. We have a getaway vehicle and everything. Though I gotta warn ya. Luke and company are on your tail.’_  
  
Archie swore loudly in Jughead’s mind, though Veronica must have overhead the conversation. She was already grabbing Betty’s hand and dragging her out of the door. Jughead followed, Archie behind him.  
  
‘Wait!’ Betty stopped, skidding on the floor. ‘We need to get Kevin and Cheryl,’ she whispered. Jughead winced when Reggie groaned loudly in his head.  
  
‘We can come back for them, blondie! Now I’m not kidding when I’m saying that Luke is literally coming right towards you.’ Veronica grabbed Betty’s arm but the girl shoved her away.  
  
‘No, no- I need to find them,’ she said softly and then turned to Jughead and Archie. ‘I’m gonna stay,’ she said softly. The sound of footsteps getting closer made Jughead feel queasy. Archie looked ready to argue but Betty shook her head and hugged him tightly and then Veronica, sobbing into the raven haired girl’s shoulder. Jughead felt his heart slam into his chest when the girl wrapped her arms around him and before he could pull away, her fingers were digging into his back and scathing down his spine making him flinch. Her icy lips were on the bridge of his ear, and he felt her shuddery breath. ‘Jughead..’ she whispered, her breath sending shivers down his spine. Betty took a deep breath and hissed; ‘Fred Andrews-’ but she didn’t get to finish before Veronica was tugging him away by the neck of his shirt.  
  
‘We need to go!’ She yelled, sounding half-hysterical. ‘Betty, you can’t stay here! Are you crazy?’ But Betty had already made up her mind. The sudden shouts from guards and what sounded like Luke wasn’t what was bothering him. What had Betty meant to say? The blonde was already rushing off down the corridor, swamped in orange light, before he had a chance to ask. Jughead felt- empty. His thoughts were silent, and all he could think about then was Betty Cooper sacrificing her freedom, her sanity- so he and the others could escape.  
  
He felt himself start to move forward, as if an unknown force was driving him towards her but he was yanked back violently. He really had to make a mental note to tell Archie he was stronger than he realized. Before he knew it, he was being dragged down corridors and hallways, his foggy mind focusing on Veronica’s hair as it swished around- before they finally came to what looked like a fire exit, and surely enough; Reggie Mantle was standing there, holding the door open for them. Jughead felt like laughing. Unbelievable. There was a cigarette hanging lazily from the boy’s lips.  
  
‘Finally!’ Reggie hissed when he finally spotted them, and his expression faltered, his gaze on something behind Jughead. He spat out his cig, before bounding through the door. ‘Shit. We need to get out. Now. They’re about to put the place on lock-down.’ He lead them through the fire exit, and it took a minute before Jughead realized he was outside. He was…outside. He stared, bewildered at what looked like a parking lot. Probably for the employee’s who had kept him hostage. How long had it been since he had set foot outside and not been a prisoner? He winced as his bare feet stumbled over the gravel walkway. There was a loud bang as the fire exit flew open and the four of them spun around. Jughead swore and grasped hold of each guard as they stumbled out of the entryway. He made sweeping motions with his arms, sending soldiers flying this way and that. Veronica let out a shuddery breath and opened her mouth.  
  
 _‘No, don’t!’_ Jughead saw the solider. He saw what he was pretty was a shot gun in his hand, pointed directly at the raven’s head. Veronica frowned, turning to him. Her mouth was settled in a ‘What?’ but the words never out, because there was a BANG! that shattered his ears and Veronica dropped to the floor, with a strangled screech she had to gag before it became her fully fledged cry. Archie let out a cry, and grabbed her, scooping the girl into his arms. Jughead twisted back to the soldier who now had his gun trained on him. Though Jughead found himself smiling a little hysterically. He glared at the man bound in black before catapulting him backwards.  
  
Once the soldier was taken care of, all Jughead could think about was Veronica. Archie clutched the girl to his chest, and Jughead caught a glimpse of scarlet soaking through the girl’s paper trousers. He suddenly forgot his inability to speak properly; the words poured out before he could stop them;  
  
‘She shot?’ He gasped out, and then wanted to hit himself. _He meant- oh god he meant_ \- ‘ _Where was she shot?’_ He choked out in his head. Archie was already following Reggie, keeping a tight hold of Veronica. The redhead was murmuring to her softly.  
  
 _‘It’s okay, Ronnie. We’re gonna get you help, okay? Just don’t scream, come on, please don’t scream, Ron.’_ Reggie rushed over to a beaten up Vauxhall, tapping on the hood.  
  
‘Your carriage awaits!’ He grinned at the three of them before he frowned at Veronica in Archie’s arms. ‘Ouch.’  
  
 _‘Is this your car?’_ Archie forced the thought into Reggie’s mind, and Jughead caught the boy flinch but he shrugged and smirked before laying the palm of his hand on the door, before his hand lit up a mesmerizing blue.  
  
‘Kind of?’ he winked at them. There was a click and Archie yanked open the door and lay an injured Veronica across the seat before jumping in after her. Jughead hesitated before diving in the passenger seat. Reggie climbed in the drivers seat and grasped hold of the steering wheel before turning to Jughead with a wide grin. ‘Forgive and forget, dude?’ The boy offered a fist-bump but Jughead shook his head.  
  
‘Need Veronica hospital.’ He gasped out. But he didn’t have time to try and formulate proper speech. The boy smirked.  
  
‘I’ll take that as progress, dude.’ Reggie started the car and the radio came on, blasting out a pop song. Jughead didn’t have enough mental strength to tell him to turn it off. It was weird- he had spent so long with Archie, Betty and Veronica, speaking into their minds but now he was out in the real world. He had to use his actual voice.  
  
 _‘We go to my Dad’s,’_ Archie said after a moment. Veronica was whimpering in his lap, and Jughead wondered how long it would be until she accidentally let out her banshee cry. Archie’s words made Jughead feel sick as Reggie reversed out the parking lot, and after a bit of trouble getting onto the main road, they were off. Jughead leaned into the soft upholstery seats and watched the night go by in a blur of headlights and the warm orange glow emitting from lampposts. Betty had said- she had said _‘Fred Andrews’_ before he had been dragged away. She must have been telling him to go to Archie’s Dad. Reggie sighed, nodding his head to the beat of the song playing on the radio.  
  
‘Alright, so where are we off to?’ He asked, his gaze on the road. ‘Pretty much the entirety of Riverdale are in on this bullshit,’ he said, before rolling eyes. ‘Ah, right. I forgot I was in a car with a mute, a kid who can barely string a sentence together and a chick with a gunshot wound. I’ll shut up.’ Jughead sighed.  
  
‘Archie’s,’ he struggled to get the rest out, and ended up choking out the word ‘house’ with more emphasis than needed. Reggie nodded.  
  
‘Alrighty.’ He glanced a look at the backseat where Archie had torn off the sleeve of his scrubs and wrapped it around Veronica’s injured leg. ‘She alright?’ Reggie actually sounded worried. _Huh. Maybe he’s not such a dick._ Archie shook his head.  
  
‘She’s losing blood,’ he whimpered in Jughead’s mind and Jughead relayed the redhead’s words back to Reggie who swore and stepped on the gas.  
  
‘Where do you live, Archie?’ He asked, turning onto a road Jughead didn’t recognize. This was the North Side. He realized, as they drove by neat houses with trimmed lawns and white picket fences but Riverdale was fast asleep. He glanced at the clock, and swallowed a groan. Of course he couldn’t see the time. Reggie caught his look and the bright smile that had stretched over his lips disappeared. ‘It’s quarter past midnight.’  
  
 _‘Fifteen, Carson Way Avenue._ ’ Archie murmured into Jughead’s skull and he felt the boy’s pain and worry for Veronica who must have passed out from the pain. ‘Hurry up!’ Archie hissed as Jughead told Reggie the address. He couldn’t help looking back, as if expecting black SUV’s to be following. After all. Reggie had said the whole town was involved in the Stitching program but he couldn’t get the feeling out of his head that something was wrong. Betty Cooper’s words were still billowing around his mind as he subconsciously searched for logical words to finish what she had started.  
  
‘Fred Andrews…’  
  
~*~  
  
Archie definitely lived on the North-side. His house was what Jughead would only dream of living in, It towered over him. It was a five bedroom Victorian with a huge garden and wooden porch. Jughead could practically imagine young Archie Andrews sitting on the grass as a kid, probably strumming a kiddie guitar. He found himself smiling softly before three loud bang’s knocked him out of it. He twisted around where Archie stood on his doorstep and hammered at the door while Reggie held Veronica Lodge in his arms. Her entire leg was drenched scarlet now, and Jughead noticed all the color had drained from her face. Her lips were pale. She really didn’t have much time.  
  
 _‘Dad!’_ Archie was beating on the door, his voice choked in his head. The boy’s hands were soaked with Veronica’s blood and he was leaving prints of bright red all over the smooth mahogany. Jughead’s heart broke for Archie.He was yelling, crying out in his head but no sound was coming out. It was like being in the real world was a slap in the face for them both. They were both mute and useless. Archie didn’t stop crying out though. Even if his Father couldn’t hear him. Reggie let out a hiss of frustration.  
  
‘Maybe he’s asleep?’ He hammered on the door. ‘Hey, Mr Andrews!’ He yelled. ‘We need help!’ Jughead didn’t really know what he was expecting. Though when the porch light flickered on and Archie let out an audible gasp. He found himself staring at the door as it opened, and a tall man with four-o-clock-shadow wearing plaid. He looked confused for a second, as he frowned at the four of them standing on his porch before his eyes widened when they finally landed on Archie.  
  
Fred Andrews stared hard and Jughead felt his eyes water. No, he wouldn’t cry. But when Archie threw himself into his Father’s arms, he forgot the promise he made to himself. It didn’t help that Archie was crying out in his head; ‘Dad, oh God. Dad!’ There was a mixture of emotions. Happiness, relief. Fear. Agony. Jughead felt every single one slam into him at once like a wave of water.  
  
Though Fred was too choked to speak. He didn’t question why Archie didn’t sob when tears were trailing down his cheeks or why his son didn’t explain his disappearance. Fred Andrews only held his son who was trembling and pressed his face against Archie’s scalp.  
  
‘No questions.’ Reggie said, stepping forward. Fred finally noticed Veronica in his arms and he let out a shuddery breath.  
  
‘Jesus,’ the man hissed before ushering the three of them in. Jughead followed the others inside and shivered when the sudden overwhelming blast of warmth hit him. He stared around at the house Archie had grown up in. Warm light filtered from the kitchen, a staircase dotted with every school photo Archie had until recent. Fred gently took Veronica and lay her on the sofa in the living room. ‘Archie, the med kit. Can you get it for me?’ He gasped, as he slowly unwrapped Archie’s blood soaked scrubs from the girl’s leg. ‘Veronica?’ Fred murmured. ‘Sweetie, can you hear me?’ Jughead stood stiff as Archie came back with the med-kit and Fred got to work removing the bullet and stitching up the wound. He stood with Reggie, while the boy stayed silent- he watched as Fred and Archie tended to the injured girl. Something was nagging at his head. But he couldn’t - he couldn’t put his finger on it. He licked his lips nervously as he watched Archie’s dad start to slowly wrap a clean bandage around the girl’s leg. When Fred was done, he picked her up. Sweat was beading down his forehead but he was smiling. ‘She’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna put her upstairs in Archie’s room so she can rest.’ He said before nodding to them. ‘Feel free to clean yourselves up.’  
  
When Fred was gone, Jughead slumped down on the sofa. Archie followed suite, while Reggie wandered into the kitchen.  
  
‘Does your dad have any candy?’ The boy yelled, before popping his head around the door, smirking. ‘Sorry, Andrews. I keep forgetting you can’t speak.’ Archie shrugged.  
  
 _‘I think so_?’ He said, and Jughead relayed the redhead’s answer back to Reggie. The boy whistled.  
  
‘Thanks, bro.’ Reggie went back to searching the Andrews kitchen, and Jughead sat with the redhead, who was staring hard at his lap. After a moment, Archie looked up, his expression crumpled.  
  
‘Jug, what do I tell him?’ He whispered. ‘How do I tell him they took my voice?’ Jughead shrugged with a little laugh.  
  
‘ _I have no idea, Arch_ ,’ he murmured. He grabbed the boy’s hand and squeezed it. ‘ _But it’ll be okay, alright_?’ Archie stared at him, brown eyes wide, before he nodded slowly.  
  
‘I’ll tell him- I mean- I mean I’ll tell you to tell him about Stitching, that we need to tell the authorities and get Betty, Kevin and-’ Archie’s voice faded out when Fred came bounding back downstairs. He smiled kindly at them.  
  
‘She’s going to be okay,’ he said, and then his gaze was on Archie. ‘Arch,’ his voice broke a little, and Jughead wondered if it was starting to hit Fred Andrews that his son was back now the adrenaline from saving Veronica’s life was slowly seeping out of his system. ‘Do you wanna talk, son?’ Archie swallowed and nodded. Jughead stood up and smiled politely. He had to speak properly, he realized. With his actual mouth.  
  
‘I-’ he started to say but Reggie was strolling out of the kitchen with a candy bar hanging out of his mouth.  
  
‘Jug, you go and get yourself cleaned up.’ He smiled. Jughead remembered the last time Reggie had said that, and he’d ended up being taken by a psychopath but he nodded slowly, and sent a glance at Archie, who smiled back. But it didn’t reach his eyes. Fred grasped hold of Archie’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug before leading the boy to the sofa. Jughead looked back as he started to climb upstairs. Fred held Archie’s hands in his lap.  
  
‘Son, you don’t have to tell me.’ Fred murmured softly. Archie stared hard at his Father’s hands clasping his own. He didn’t know what to say, and Jughead didn’t blame him. Though Jughead figured he’d leave them to it. He wandered upstairs, seeking out a bathroom and clean clothes. It wouldn’t hurt to check on Veronica too. Jughead ended up finding a small bathroom, and washed his face in the basin, before frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He looked a mess. His dark brown hair was splayed in every direction, though most of it stuck to his forehead. His skin had taken on a pale tone, his eyes wide and haunted. Jughead leaned forward, frowning. Was stitching physically noticeable? He studied his face for any strange looking defects or a discolored iris, but he just looked…like him. Well, a messed up version of him but still- even when his brain had been rewired and so much inside him had changed, been drastically modified; he still looked like Jughead Jones.  
  
He grabbed a towel and scrubbed at his face and damp hair, before chucking it back over the basin. Then he pulled at his scrubs. The gross hospital scrubs Luke had forced him into. He felt sick. He found himself wandering around, searching for clean clothes. Preferably Archie’s. Jughead spotted what looked a bedroom, and walked in, marveling at the chocolate colored walls and bright artistic paintings scattering the walls. There was a huge poster-bed he presumed was Archie’s father’s. Though it didn’t look slept in. The duvet spread was folded immaculately as if it was show in a store.  
  
There was a small desk next to the bed, littered with papers, coffee mugs and an iMac computer still open. Jughead couldn’t help it. He was a writer. It was in his nature to be curious. Jughead wandered over to the desk and glanced at the door, before slumping down in the chair, peering at the screen. It was password encrypted. Of course it was. Though he suddenly wanted to laugh at himself. Why was he even doing this? he couldn’t read! Yet even if he couldn’t, he still found his fingers dancing across the keys. Oh man, it felt good to type. He raked his mind for a hack he’d found online ages ago. It was a quick loophole into easily getting into someone’s computer. He didn’t see Fred Andrews as someone who would add government type security to his laptop. So he tried the basic code he managed to memorise, and thanked all the Gods above that he knew the Mac keyboard layout off by heart, thanks to many, many nights in Pop’s working on his novel.  
  
Jughead took a deep breath before he typed in the hacker key. The screen flashed, before the logging in screen came up, with the little blue swirl. Well, he presumed it was the login screen. All he saw was a blue screen and blurry text. The computer booted up, and Jughead found himself staring at galaxy background dotted with files with names he couldn’t read. He squinted at the screen, swallowing a groan. He ended up clicking on a random folder, and within that folder, the first file that popped up. He couldn’t help thinking something was wrong. It was too quiet. Archie was talking to his Father but there was no sobbing, no reassuring whispers- no anything. It was just silent.  
  
 _‘Archie?’_ He tried calling out to the boy but Archie didn’t reply. Jughead sighed. The screen was too blurry, and he was starting to get agitated. He ended up logging off and standing up, stretching.  
  
‘Are you seriously hacking into some poor dude’s laptop?’ The voice made him jump, and he spun around to face Reggie, with that same damn smirk plastered to his lips. Jughead shrugged and was about to try and explain himself with his limited speech, but then Reggie was hurrying over and grabbing piles of the papers strewn all over the desk.  
  
‘What?’ Jughead only managed to say but the boy’s expression had turned his stomach. Reggie was staring at each piece of paper, flipping them upside down and reading what was on the other side.  
  
‘This is crazy,’ the boy muttered before letting out a hissed breath before looking at Jughead. Jughead saw fear glinting in the boy’s eyes and he tried hard to swallow. ‘Archie?’ He whispered weakly but he could no longer sense the boy. ‘Jughead,’ Reggie’s gaze was glued to the papers- the documents that Jughead couldn’t see no matter how hard he squinted and strained his eyes. ‘Archie’s dad, oh god, he’s…’  
  
Jughead didn’t wait for the boy to finish his sentence. He was already diving out of the bedroom and down the hall into Archie’s room, where Veronica lay still on the redhead’s bed. But something was different about her. He stared hard, his heart bursting through his chest. But then it came to him, and his head was spinning, his muddled voice choked in the back of his throat. He was staring at the girl as she leaned into a bunch of pillows, her expression peaceful. Her dark hair spread around her like a halo. But Jughead wasn’t staring at Veronica Lodge’s hair, or that the wound in her leg had gone. _Just..gone_.  
  
He was staring at the girls ears. Where there should have been punctured holes. Yet- there they were. Ears. What she had lost- when she had had been Stitched. Veronica startled him when she suddenly jumped up, her mouth open- and he knew it was her banshee wail. Her eyes were wide in terror. But before Veronica could cry out for death about to happen, then came the most beautiful, yet terrifying sound which rang in his mind and sent his stomach into his throat. It was a strangled voice. But the cry wasn’t in his head, like it was supposed to be. Like it always was. Instead it was in his ears, slamming into him like a tumultuous wave.  
  
‘Jughead!’ The cry was choked. Followed by a loud bang.  
  
It was Archie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3
> 
> if like at least 1 person is still reading this ancient fic, ill continue lmao ive fallen in love with the story again <3 let me know!


	10. We're Coming Betty.

It had been a three days.

Three days since Jughead had last seen Betty. Since the girl had whispered into his mind that Fred Andrews was the one they should trust. She must have foreseen it in her visions, known that Archie's father would help them. Jughead still remembered what had happened that night. Veronica had unleashed her banshee cry, her disfigured ears turned back to normal. While downstairs, Fred Andrews had stabbed his son in the neck with a serum capable of working miracles. It had given him his voice back. Not perfect. More of a croak, a sputtered cry from the gutter of the boy's healing throat. But it had been enough. Enough to allow him to cry out for Jughead. Not in his mind, but with his lips. The voice that had been stolen from him for so long was finally back.

But every miracle had a catch. And this didn't surprise Jughead. There was no such thing as a life saving serum that would thoroughly undo what Luke had performed. The serum wasn't permanent. And there was only half a vile left. Before Jughead could ask questions, demand why Fred Andrews was part of the Stitching program, the man was pressing the glass vile of periwinkle liquid into his hand. Fred's pale blue eyes had been wild, turbulent with emotions. While Archie stood very still, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. _This doesn't feel right..._ the boy had hissed in his mind. Jughead had felt Archie's emotions crash into him like an icy wave. He'd expected the redhead to embrace his father but Archie stood well away from the man, hugging himself. While Reggie tended to a hysterical Veronica. Jughead had refused the vial at first. Even when he knew what it could do. But Fred insisted. With desperate eyes and twisted lips, the man had forcefully stuck the vial into his hand...

-

Flashback.

"It's only temporary," Fred Andrews said softly. "I'm working on a permanent solution, and I promise," Jughead couldn't help flinching when Archie's father gripped his shoulders. His blue eyes were fierce. The man looked exhausted beyond comprehension. His greying hair was tousled, plaid shirt stained with blood. "I promise you kids I'm going to find a cure."

Jughead felt dizzy. A cure? Could this really be cured? Like what Luke had done to him. The man had turned his mind into mush, a vicious storm of confusion where he could barely comprehend words. Perhaps that's why he wasn't speaking, only spluttering confused gibberish. "Cure?!" he'd managed to spit. It had been the first word he'd coerced since rushing downstairs, Reggie and Veronica in tow, to find Archie on his knees on the living room floor. The boy had a needle sticking out of his neck. But before Reggie could attack Fred Andrews, the man had explained that Archie and Veronica had been guinea pigs for an actual cure. If Jughead was honest with himself, Fred wasn't that much better than Betty Cooper's mother or his father. Had the man known the side effects of the serum? Was he sure it was completely safe?

No. He'd just stabbed it into his son regardless.

"S- since w-" he trailed off, wincing. "S- since when d- d- d-" Jughead gave up, wanting to punch the wall. Really fucking hard. He felt his ability swarm inside him like a disease. Always there, running through his veins, ready to strike at any moment. If he wanted to, he could throw Fred Andrews into the wall. Crack his skull. But Archie still loved his father. Even after everything. Jughead felt it overwhelm his mind, a flood of anger and pain. _Don't hurt him._ Archie whimpered in his mind. So he'd concentrated on questioning the redhead's old man. Something he was good at.

 _Sound it out._ He'd had taken a deep breath. Jughead hated getting mixed up, hated that the words on his tongue were so tangled, so mixed up. It was like having a severe case of dyslexia. Since when? The words were in his head. He grabbed at them, trying to force them through his dry lips. But he only let out a noise of frustration, tears burning his eyes.

"Save it, ABC," Reggie rolled his eyes. "Alright daddy Andrews, what are you talking about?" the boy demanded. He had his arm around the Lodge girl, while she looked seconds from collapsing. Her cheeks were ashen, raven dark hair hanging in clumpy strands in front of glazed over eyes. Her scream was still been ringing in his ears, an incessant screech bouncing around Jughead's skull. Veronica didn't speak. Her lips were still tainted scarlet, blood encrusting her nostrils. The young heiress was practically unrecognisable. And right now, with Luke no doubt on their heel, that was a good thing.

"They're looking for the serum," Fred replied calmly. "Do you understand me? If they get this, it'll mean everything I've worked for, everything I've done to try and-" Fred shook his head, swallowing. "I've worked with Alice and FP for a while. Our main goal at first was to create a future for you kids, where you'd never have to experience pain or discomfort." Jughead winced. But Reggie was already saying what he was thinking. "You wanted to remove what makes them human," the boy muttered through gritted teeth. "Thank god old Sammy T got to me first when I was a kiddo, eh? Sucks to be a second Gen."

Reggie clutched Veronica tighter, his knuckles writhing with electric blue light. It was mesmerizing. The boy was a walking electricity rod. His expression twisted. Jughead swore he saw a glint of cerulean light ignite his eyes. Reggie whistled. "I read the files, Andrews." the boy's lip curled. "I'd advise getting some better security on your creepy plans. They tell us you're practically balls deep, old man."

Fred sighed. "Samuel Tanzeni was a good man." he said. "He believed in gifting human children with abilities so they could be better. Luke was driven mad by Sam's death. He wanted to carry on his father's legacy, but he turned the project into a recruitment scheme. He wanted to turn kids into soldiers. Specifically, Riverdale's kids." the man took a breath. "I know it sounds bad, but trust me. Initially, I swear we had the best intentions when Luke approached us. Alice wanted Betty to be perfect, to be the best, and Tom and FP wanted their son's to be..." he looked uncomfortable. "Powerful."

 _Bastard_.

Archie's voice seeped into his mind. Jughead sensed the poison attached to it. The pain and anger. _How could you?_ Archie whimpered. Fred continued, albelt shakily. "Anyway," he said softly. "I didn't put Archie forward initially. Betty and Jughead's kidnapping was going to be staged, but Luke saw something in my son, and offered him the Stitching." Fred laughed harshly. "They didn't exactly give me a choice."

Archie went silent in his head. The boy was going to blow. Jughead just didn't know when. Maybe when they were somewhere safe, he'd finally break apart. But for now, Archie stayed stoic. He looked out of place in his own home; the filthy pale blue scrubs he'd worn in imprisonment were stained with Veronica's blood from her gunshot wound. The one Fred had treated. Jughead wanted to be stubborn, wanted to be ignorant. After all, Fred was just like his father. But he'd saved Veronica and hadn't turned them over to Luke. So he had to trust the man. If he didn't, they were in danger of being taken once more.

"As for Veronica, Hiram wanted her to go first." Fred explained. The girl flinched. But she didn't say anything. Her painted lips curled in distaste.

Archie's father turned to Jughead with pleading eyes, an expression begging him to listen. "Jughead, your father just wanted what was best for you." he said. "He-"

Jughead blocked out the rest of the man's words. No. **No.** He wouldn't listen. He didn't want to hear excuses. His father knew what his passion was. Writing. Words. Literature.

And he'd ripped it away, with not so much as an apology. "I'm sorry I fucked your life up, but it was for the best." he imagined his father saying those words, and bile burned at the back of his throat. Jughead shook his head. He wanted to cry out, tell Fred that he didn't want to know what the so-called plan's his father had for him were.

But when he opened his mouth, there was only word vomit; "Stop." he choked out. "P-please s- s- s-" He shot a desperate look at Reggie, who nodded solemnly. While Archie stood, his fists were clenched, a scarlet flush beginning to spread over his cheeks. Reggie cleared his throat.

"Alright, we know the rest. You fucked up your kids, screwed with their DNA. Yada, yada, yada, we get it. So you've been with them the whole way, huh?"

Jughead had expected the man to deny it. But he only nodded, running his hand through greying hair. "They went too far." he said softly. Jughead would have sympathised with him. But Fred had stood by, just like his father and Betty's mother, and watched Luke turn their kids into monsters. He'd only nodded shakily, accepting the vial and shoving it in his jeans. For a moment Fred had stood and stared at Archie. At first Jughead wondered if the man was waiting for his son to accept everything he'd said. But the man's eyes were burning with impatience. He was waiting for Archie to speak.

No, he was waiting to see if the serum worked. Jughead's stomach had twisted. Was that all he really cared about? Fred seemed to snap out of it, before smiling reassuringly. "You should have your voice for the next twenty four hours, Archie," he said softly. The redhead didn't move. Jughead couldn't even hear his thoughts. Archie had put up a barrier incapable of breaking through. Though he understood how the boy felt. When he'd found out his father was willingly working with Luke, he'd felt...broken. Alone. Like a little kid again. Now Archie was going through exactly the same thing and he was speechless. Not just physically, because of the condition Luke had cursed him with. Jughead couldn't even whisper words of reassurance into Archie's mind, because he didn't know what the boy wanted to hear. Should he try and justify the man's actions? No. Because then he'd be excusing his father too. There was really nothing he could say, but "I'm sorry" which was pathetic. And he knew Archie didn't want his pity. So Jughead stayed silent, while Veronica murmured to the redhead softly. Her words were like a gentle caress in not just Archie's mind, but his too. _It's gonna be okay Arch,_ she crooned. _It's okay, baby._

Though the redhead ignored her. He only stared at his father. His brown eyes were glistening with tears. But he didn't blink them away.

"You kids need to get going." Fred said quickly. "I'm positive the first place they'll look is here, and if I'm compromised, you kids are screwed and I'll have no way of helping you."

"Hold on a second, why should we blindly follow you?" Reggie asked. "For all we know you could send us right into a trap."

Before Jughead could say anything, the man was raiding his kitchen cupboards, stuffing packs of chips, candy and canned food in a ratty looking backpack. Then he produced a roll of notes and handed them to Archie, who stuffed them into his jeans. He didn't thank his father. Fred looked like he might say something, try and explain why he too was caught in this ever growing web of lies Riverdale's parents were spinning. But the man had only embraced his son quickly, before handing the bag of supplies to Reggie.

"There's a med kit in there. Enough food to last you a few days," Fred was breathless as he rushed around the kitchen, flitting from cupboard to cupboard like an out of control pinball machine. The Andrews kitchen was much like the living room. Cosy with chocolate brown walls. There was an oven, refrigerator and dishwasher packed under a marble countertop and a fancy wooden dining room table. It was the kind of home Jughead dreamed about living in. Finally, Fred turned, answering Reggie's lingering question.

"You'll have to," he replied. "Look, I know it's hard. I've done bad things," he glanced at Archie, who had picked up an apple out of the fruit ball and was throwing it up in the air and catching it. He was still silent, apart from a low buzzing between the connection he, Jughead and Veronica shared. "thing's I deeply regret." Fred finished. Shaking his head, he went back to rifling for food. "If you want to free your friends and stop the program, you kids have no choice but to trust me." the man pulled out a cardboard box and removed the lid, pulling something black and bulky.

Jughead felt shivers tingle down his spine. It was a gun. Fred held it out to him by the handle. "In case of emergencies."

Jughead stared blankly at the pistol. Archie scoffed in his mind, a shriek of static attacking his skull. He winced. _I didn't know he he a gun._ The boy muttered. _Then again, it's not like I knew him at all. He's been with them all this-"_ Archie's voice broke, splitting into senseless buzzing. Fred must have known Archie was speaking into his head. But he didn't say anything, only cocking a brow. "Do know how to use a gun?" and Jughead, after hesitating, nodded. He did. When he was eight, his father used to take him hunting in fox forest. Jughead took the gun and tucked it into the waistband of Archie's jeans. Skinny denim he wouldn't be seen dead in. But now, it was all he had. Archie didn't waste time grabbing his own pack of stuff from his room. He disappeared upstairs with Veronica. Jughead stayed with Fred, watching the man pace the kitchen, a chunky Nokia phone pressed to his ear. "There's a friend of mine in Canada," he murmured. "If I can get hold of her and she says it's alright, I'll give you directions." Jughead must have looked wary, because the man glanced up at him with a small smile. "She'll keep you safe."

Reggie sat on the countertop, swinging his legs. "Not to be that guy," he spoke up. "But shouldn't I be the one who takes care of the weapon?" when Jughead turned to glare at him, the boy rolled his eyes. "What? You've been been messed with, Jones. You can't read and can barely string a sentence together." Reggie shrugged. "Do you really think you can aim and shoot?" Mantle was probably right. But the words still stung. If Jughead couldn't read a single word, could he really be trusted with shooting an enemy? His stomach lurched, a thought striking out of nowhere; Would it be his own father coming after him?

"The gun is for emergencies." Fred said in finality, before walking out of the kitchen with his head bowed. "Hello? Oh, hello! Sorry it's late at night," he laughed shakily. Yeah it's Fred. Are you alone right now? Look, I'm calling for a favour..." the man's voice faded out. Reggie jumped off the counter the second Fred had shut the door behind him. "Alright, we're going," the boy said, grabbing Jughead's arm. "Isn't it obvious that Archie's daddy dearest is ringing up those freaks?"

Jughead shook his head. "Wait." he growled. But something was nagging at the back of his mind, a burst of paranoia slowly eating up every logical thought. Fred Andrews had admitted to working with the bad guys. Wouldn't it be obvious to turn them in?

"For what?" Reggie demanded impatiently. "Come on Jones, you're smart!" he winced. "Well, I mean you were. Actually I'm not sure if your intelligence was affected. Is it just your pronunciation of words, or-"

 **Ouch.** Jughead felt his cheeks redden. He suddenly wanted to punch the boy out of anger and frustration. He wanted to scream pretentious words at the top of his lungs, his favourite quotes from classics. But they had been plunged into oblivion, along with most of his mind.

What was left of him was a hollowed out shell of himself. _Illiterate._ Jughead didn't wince when the sharp ends of his nails dug into the flesh of his palms. A pack of cereal sitting on the countertop began to violently shake.

"Whoa." Reggie chuckled when the pack of Cheerio's fell forwards, spilling its contents. The boy's leather jacket blew open, strands of his hair flying up in an invisible static wave. It was like back in the Hadfields parking lot. If he concentrated, or got triggered by emotions, he could take control of air the around him, moulding it to his bidding.

"Jug," Reggie stared, baffled, as a carton of milk burst across the room, followed by a bottle of Coke. It was a harmonious explosion of coloured froth.

"Hey, can you stop that now?" Reggie jumped when the pack of Cheerios rose up on its own before hitting the ground. "Dude!" the boy yelled. "Chill out!"

Jughead relaxed slightly. He unclenched his fists, frowning at the bloody half moons on his palms. The force that had taken over the kitchen seemed to disperse, and the strands of Reggie's hair that had been dancing in the air fell limp. Jughead took a deep breath. "Get....to...your-" he flexed his hands with a soft sigh. "p- point."

Reggie was frowning at the mess he'd made. Milk was splattered all over the ceiling, a mixture of coke and cheerios coming together on the floor. "Holy shit, you're like Carrie."

Jughead rolled his eyes. _Thanks Reggie._ "We can..." he gritted his teeth. "t - trust him."

Reggie groaned. "Are you serious? After everything he's done?" His eyes darkened. "Did you even see what was on his laptop, huh?" Jughead swallowed. Fred's laptop had been a blur of colour to him. The files were gibberish, and the keyboard might as well have been hieroglyphs. His brain had been picked at. Everything that made Jughead a writer, his passion for literature, books and journalism - gone thanks to his father, Fred Andrews, Alice Cooper and an army of self righteous parents wanting to control their kids.

"No," Jughead ran his tongue over his teeth, focusing on the words. "I think....slack," he choked out. To his horror, most of what he was going to say was tangled on his tongue, turning into a gasp of breath. But Reggie hummed in understanding. "You think we should cut him slack." he muttered. Jughead nodded. "He..." it was becoming progressively harder to speak. His chest ached. "Archie." Jughead squeezed his eyes shut. It was painful. It was so fucking painful struggling to speak the simplest words. But Reggie wasn't laughing or teasing him. Instead, the boy was patiently waiting for him to finish.

"He gave...Archie...voice," he let out a breath of relief, but Reggie's lips twisted. "He gave Archie his voice back," he muttered, translating Jughead's gibberish.

"Yeah, for a few hours!" the raven haired boy sighed. "That doesn't excuse what he did to you guys. Did you see his eyes when he saw Archie?" Reggie scoffed. "he didn't see his son, Jug, he saw a fucking lab rat. Which we're all going to become once again, if we don't run for it." Jughead didn't resist when Reggie grabbed his arm for the second time, yanking him towards the back door. "He has every kid in this town's file." Reggie said. His words made Jughead's stomach twist. The boy looked desperate, his teeth gritted. "Isn't that a good enough reason to abandon the old man and motor?"

Jughead opened his mouth to answer, or to maybe yell gibberish at the boy. But the door flew open, interrupting them. Archie hurried in. He had changed into clean jeans and t-shirt, a loose black jacket slung over the top. Jughead couldn't help staring. Archie Andrews looked different. But in a good way. He had washed up, thank god. There was no longer traces of Veronica's blood splattered over his cheeks and neck, the discoloured stains from months of being trapped in Luke's clutches had been scrubbed away.

But it wasn't just that the boy had cleaned up. Archie no longer looked like a Northsider, ditching converse and Letterman jackets for combat boots and a leather jacket. The boy was busy stuffing clothes into a backpack, a grey baseball cap covering his curls. _Are you guys ready?_ Jughead revelled in the feeling of the boy's voice in his mind. Archie zipped up his bag and shouldered it. He looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Where's dad?" the boy's voice carried on a bed of static.

Jughead winced. Why wasn't Archie speaking with his actual voice? He knew the boy could, at least for now. He'd heard it loud and clear when Fred had stabbed him with the needle.

He pointed to the door across the room. "Phone." he spoke out loud, surprising himself. Archie followed his gaze, his eyes widening when he spotted the mess on the floor, then the ceiling. "What happened?" the boy opened his mouth as if to speak the words, but quickly shut it. Jughead shrugged. "I got mad at Reggie." he murmured into Archie's mind. "Your dad's gonna need a new carton of milk."

Veronica appeared looking fresh faced. She had tied her hair back and washed her face of blood. The girl wore one of Archie's plaid shirts, jeans and white plimsolls. "What are we waiting for?" Veronica was gripping her own pack of gathered supplies, her blue eyes surveying the mess. "Archie, where did your dad go?"

"Archie's old man's on the phone." Reggie muttered. Though his gaze was on Veronica's leg, which she was having no problem standing on. The girl crying out in agony, her thigh covered in blood felt like a fever dream. It was hard to believe she'd been shot at hours ago. _Ronnie, are you sure you're strong enough?_ Archie murmured to the girl, who scoffed, sending a rush of static back. _Sweetie, it was a leg wound. I'm fine._

Jughead couldn't help wonder if Veronica, or maybe even all five of them had accelerated healing.

Reggie grabbed for the girl's hand, and after a look of brief surprise, Veronica smiled gently and entangled her fingers in his. After a moment, Fred re-entered the room, quickly stuffing the phone into his pocket. "Ah, you're all ready." he smiled at the foursome. His gaze lingered on Archie for far too long. "Arch, can we talk?" he asked after an uncomfortable silence. Though the redhead shook his head, avoiding his father's eyes. _We're going,_ he muttered to Jughead and Veronica. _I don't want to talk to him._

 _Archie..._ Veronica started, but the boy was quick to cut her off with a rush of static. _Ronnie, he's dead to me._

The girl looked helpless. "Mr Andrews," Veronica squeezed Reggie's hand tighter. She seemed more sympathetic of the man, since he had saved her life. "We should really get going." she said quickly.

Fred nodded slowly. "Understood." he said softly. "Archie, for what it's worth.." he started to say, but Archie squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't." he croaked.

Mr Andrews' eyes lit up. "Yes, son. Keep talking." he said, a giddiness to his tone. The man took a shaky step forwards, blue eyes shining. But not with tears. More like- pride. He was proud of what he'd done. Jughead felt a chill rattle through him. Reggie was right. Archie made a choking noise. "Talk about what, dad?" his voice was a whispered hiss. "Can we talk about you staging my kidnapping?" he let out a harsh laugh. "It was you." he growled. Tears were trickling down his cheeks. "You were the one who sent me to the parking lot," Archie clenched his fists. "Straight into that bastard's trap."

Jughead had seen Archie's memory. Back when he was still human. Still normal. After the talent show Archie had been looking for Betty, and his own father had been the one to send him into the lion's den.

"It's not like that." Fred's voice was cold. "Archie, I had no choice!" the man looked like he was having trouble keeping it together himself. "Do you understand that it was either Stitching you or killing you?" he let out a disheartened laugh. "Do you know how powerful you are?"

"We're going." Archie hissed. Jughead caught the boy wince and swallow hard. Maybe it was time to stop using his actual voice. He only had it for a limited time.

Before Fred could utter anything else or try and explain, Archie was grabbing his arm and dragging him to the back door. Reggie and Veronica on their heel. Fred followed them quickly. "There's a woman in Vancouver, Canada. Her name's Penny Peabody. She's an old friend. She's going to meet you in Grand Central in five days. Don't worry about passports, she's got fake IDs." he passed Jughead a yellow sticky note with a name and address:

"In case you miss her at the station, she has a place in downtown New York."

**"8917 Windsor St.**

**New York, NY 10023.**

**ASK FOR PENNY PEABODY."**

Jughead slipped the note in his jeans pocket. His hands were shaking. Could they really trust Fred? After everything he'd admitted doing. Was he just leading them back to Luke?

"She'll look after you kids," Fred said quickly, as if reading his mind.

"Penny looks after victims of the Stitching program," He explained. "Before Riverdale, he took runaways in New York. Though unlike you kids, they were-" the man trailed off, but Archie scoffed. "They were what?" he demanded. "Failures, dad?"

"Archie..." Fred was losing his patience. Jughead couldn't even enjoy finally hearing the boy speak. Because he only heard pain. Anger.

Veronica and Reggie didn't waste time disappearing. They were out of the door before Fred could say goodbye. Archie straggled for a second, glaring at his father. It looked like he might say something. But he only bowed his head and followed the others. " _If you're smart_ ," the boy muttered in his head. " _you wouldn't stay and listen to his lies_."

Jughead, teetered on the doorstep, unsure what to do. _Give me a sec, Arch._

What he really wanted to say was stuck in his throat, lost in his broken brain. So he only give the man a two fingered salute. "Thanks." he managed to say. The boy turned to go, but Fred grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from going any further. The late summer breeze felt cool on his cheeks, blowing his hair fervently. The Andrews backyard was lit up by the moon hanging in the sky, casting Riverdale in a pale yellow light. There was a swingset. Swallowing, Jughead drew in a breath. He imagined a younger Archie completely oblivious of the future, and what his father was planning.

"Look after him." Fred said softly. "I know I've done wrong. And I-" his voice hitched. "I'm trying to make things right." the man let out a sigh, his grip loosening on the boy's shoulder. "Just make sure Archie takes the serum every day. If he doesn't, it will stop working. It has to be every single day. Do you understand me?"

"What about side effects?" he wanted to ask. But the words were lost. He couldn't grab for them, and even if he could, his fucked up brain would scramble them.

Jughead only nodded. He was shaking, cheeks burning. If he wasn't careful, he could cause some serious damage if he didn't calm down. But it was hard. Fred Andrews had worked with his father, with Betty Cooper's mother- Sheriff Keller and Veronica's parents. All of them in some sick cultistic group, trying to turn their kids into the perfect weapons. He'd onto hope that Archie's father was different. But he was exactly the same. He'd watched Luke rip out his son's throat. He didn't care about the lasting haunting effects that were killing Archie, or the embedded connection drilled into his skull. All Fred cared about was righting the wrong. Even if it meant using Archie as a guinea pig. "Jug!" Reggie's voice rang out. "Yo, we need to go!"

Fred began to close the door. "Penny should keep you safe until I perfect the cure," he explained. "Don't worry, son. You won't be on the run forever."

Jughead had a hard time believing him. Before he could think about something to say, maybe start yelling in tangled tongues at the man for green-lighting Archie's Stitching, the door slammed in his face and Jughead found himself feeling more homesick than ever. But it turned out, the only family he had, were the ones embedded in his head. At first they had been strangers, but now they were bonded together. Stuck inside the same nightmare, running away from their psycho parents.

 _Betty._ He reached out to the girl, even if she was miles away. Her signal in his head was blocked. Just an endless screech of white noise. _Hold on, okay?_ Jughead thought desperately.

_I promise we're coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you're still reading :) i've missed writing this. it brings me back to a simpler world lmao


End file.
